Politicians
by Lady Miya
Summary: You would have thought that Hermione Granger, a major in Political Science, would know better than invite a stranger from a pub home. But then, she would never be a true politician if she did. Secret Santa gift to Waterflower20.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is the story I wrote for the Secret Santa Challenge 2014 on Tomione Convention. It's a gift to waterflower20, and I was happy to find out that she enjoyed it. Therefore, I'm posting it here in the hopes that more people will. And yes, this one is Tomione, so everyone who misses their Tomione action in Serpent of the World will find it here! Told you I'd write more Tomione ;)

A special thank you to Nerys for taking the time to beta this story!

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1**

Hermione Granger, the best and brightest student in her school for decades, had managed something few her age ever did. She had got into Hogwarts, one of the most prestigious universities for postgraduate students. Most didn't succeed to get in until they were over twenty-five, she was only twenty-two.

It was cause for celebration. At least, that was what her friends had told her, and since she would soon leave for Scotland, she had decided to oblige them. They had gone to The Leaky Cauldron, their usual pub in London.

"I can't believe we won't be able to hang out every day," Ginny Weasley pouted. She was one of Hermione's closest friends and they had been going to school together since Hermione was twelve.

"We hardly see each other every day now," Hermione said, laughing. "Not since you decided to drop out of college for that football club."

"Yeah, but now, instead of being five streets down, you'll be five hundred miles away!" Ginny complained.

"What are you two talking about?" Harry Potter asked. He and Ron Weasley, Ginny's older brother, had just got back to their table with another round of drinks.

Ginny threw an arm around Hermione, pulling her closer. "I don't want her to go!"

"Okay, no more drinks for you," Ron said, taking back the glass he had put in front of her.

"No!" Ginny wailed. "I want the alcohol! Hermione, tell your ex to give me my alcohol back."

"I'm cutting you off," Ron said sternly. "I'll get you some water and chips so you'll sober up."

"Oh, chips, yes please," Ginny said, letting go of Hermione, at once in a better mood.

Ron went away again and Hermione caught Harry rolling his eyes. Ginny had never been able to hold her liquor.

"But it will feel a bit empty to not have you here," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, well, I will come down to London at every school break," Hermione promised vaguely. Ever since she and Ron broke up over a year ago, Hermione noticed Harry acting a bit weirdly around her. Blushing when she touched him, not quite meeting her eyes when they spoke and often just acting … strange.

Ginny thought he had a crush on Hermione, but that he didn't want to say anything because she was Ron's ex. Hermione was frankly happy about not having to break his heart. Not only because she just saw him like a brother, but also because she had a feeling that Ginny still liked him. Everyone knew she had been in love with him when she was eleven, but they all assumed she had grown out of it. She regularly had new boyfriends. However, Hermione suspected that the reason she never managed to stay together with any of them was because she still had feelings for Harry.

Therefore, it would be nice to get away from them for a while and just focus on her education. Studying political science at a postgraduate level would be hard enough without the drama of romantics.

Luckily, Harry didn't try anything tonight either, and he and Ron disappeared after another hour. Hermione agreed to stay with Ginny, who had sobered up and was eyeing a guy in the bar. He was tall, blond and very muscular, Ginny's usual type and not at all Hermione's. If anything, she'd prefer the man he was with. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, with a face that looked to be carved out in marble by the most skilled sculptor. His black hair framed it gracefully, making him appear even paler than he probably was. Next to his friend, he appeared small, but he must easily be just as tall as him.

He must have sensed her gawking because he glanced over in their direction, and she quickly looked away, blushing. She hoped she hadn't been drooling.

Ginny, however, had no such inhibitions. When the dark-haired man nudged his blond comrade, Ginny waved at him.

"Hello, handsome, wanna buy us the next round?"

"Ginny," Hermione groaned.

"'Course, love, if we may join you?" the blond's voice boomed cheerfully.

Ginny nodded, and the next thing Hermione knew, she was sitting pressed between the wall and the dark-haired man with a new pint in her hand. They had introduced themselves as Tom (the dark-haired one) and Thorfinn (the big blond).

"So what brings you two to town?" Ginny asked, though her focus was mostly on the blond. "I haven't seen you here before, and I'm a regular."

"Business," Thorfinn said. "Tom has dragged me to meetings all week long and I can't stand talking about it anymore."

"You were the one who begged me to take you on as an assistant this summer. Something about being broke?" Tom said, his voice dark and sensual, but with a hint of amusement, despite the stern expression.

Thorfinn waved him away. "You needed the help, and no one of our friends wanted to help you because you are such an anal arse."

"I still haven't paid you for this month, you know," Tom reminded his friend, bringing his pint up to his mouth.

At once, Thorfinn looked a bit uncertain. "I'm only joking, Tom. Don't embarrass me in front of the ladies."

"I didn't pull out the pictures from our days in university, did I?"

Thorfinn roared in laughter and turned to Ginny again. "What about you, love, what do you do?"

As Ginny and Thorfinn started talking about football, Hermione noticed that Tom didn't seem very interested in football. Drawing courage from the pint, she decided to start talking to him.

"What kind of meetings have you been on?" she asked.

"At the parliament," Tom said with a smile. "But I won't bore you with it, I do have other interests as well."

"Oh, but I don't find it boring at all. I study political science and I'd like to work in parliament, too," Hermione said. "It's terribly interesting. I've just finished a paper on the under-representation of coloured people from the lower classes in politics and how no one really lobbies for them, since there isn't so much money in it, and done parallels with the difficulties of Marxists acting in a capitalistic world."

She lurched into a long explanation of what her view on the subject was. Tom seemed amused by her interest and argued against her, as any well-trained politician would have done if it were a real debate.

Time flew by, and before she knew it, Ginny kicked her under the table.

"What?" she asked, annoyed to be interrupted.

"Thorfinn wants to look at my … er, stamp collection. Should I call Ron back to follow you home?" Ginny asked, her face red in what could only be arousal.

Hermione snorted. "No, that's fine. I'll text you when I get home."

"Make sure that you do," Ginny said, and then, let Thorfinn help her up.

"Later, Tom!" he called his friend before they disappeared from the pub.

"Must be one interesting stamp collection," Tom remarked.

Hermione laughed. "Ginny actually did collect stamps when she was younger. And she did use that excuse to bring up boys to her room when she was still living at home, too. Until her mother found out, that is."

"You two have known each other for a long time, then?"

She nodded. "Since elementary school. I used to date her brother."

"Used to?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"We started going out when we were fifteen, but once we began different colleges, we drifted apart and decided to end it over a year ago." She suddenly noticed just how closely they were sitting. His foot was between hers, the inside of her right leg lying at the outside of his. He had his elbow on the back of the booth they were sitting in, and he was leaning against it, so his face was at the same level as hers.

"And no one else has managed to catch your eye since then?" His tone was dark and soft, almost purring.

Was he flirting with her?

"Not really," she said, not at all sure how she was supposed to act.

If it had been Ginny, she would probably have said something about "not until now", but she was Hermione and she had never been good at flirting. But if he were flirting, then she wanted to flirt, too. It wasn't often that she got hit on by someone as handsome and clever as Tom. It didn't matter if it were only a one-time thing, she was not against casual sex, she just hadn't been inclined to try it.

Until tonight.

"What about you?" she finally asked. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, luckily enough. If I did, I would have felt very ashamed over how much I want to see your stamp collection."

_Stamp collection?_

"Oh!" Hermione said, realising what he meant. "Right. Eh. Yes. I don't think mine is as spectacular as Ginny's is, but—"

"I'm sure it is," Tom interrupted her with a smile, grasping her hand. "Do you feel like showing it?"

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist.

She shuddered all over, never having realised how sensitive she was there. "Very much."

"Excellent," he whispered and pulled her up.

They left the pub, still holding hands. Once they were outside, he stopped and leaned in, kissing her hotly.

Hermione felt her knees go weak by the passion of the kiss. She couldn't remember ever being kissed like that. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she hoped desperately that she was able to match his level. No one had ever complained about her kisses, but she had always been a perfectionist.

They let go of each other, and with hurried steps, she showed him the way down to the flat she shared with a few other students. It wasn't far, but they still stopped several times to kiss.

Once they made it up to her room, there was no need for words. She pushed him inside, not remembering being this horny ever before. He pulled her down on top of the bed with him, and his kisses became even deeper. His hands were under her shirt in no time, opening her bra.

Instead of going straight to her breasts as she was used to boys doing, he pulled his fingers down her back, stroking every inch of her skin. She had never known how erotic that could feel. She moaned into his mouth and started to grind her groin against his.

He let go of her mouth and pulled her shirt and bra off, throwing it on the floor. She helped him off with his, and then, the snogging resumed. Now, his hand finally went up to her breasts, stroking it. She moved her fingers through his hair, loving the smooth texture.

When his hand moved down and started to unzip her jeans, she withdrew.

"Condoms," she gasped and slid off the bed. "Need condoms."

She had bought some when she had been out with Ginny a few months ago. Not that she had expected to use them at once, but she rather had some home. Now, she was very happy at her foresight.

As she ransacked the top drawer in her dresser, Tom came up behind her. He brushed her bushy hair away and kissed her neck, his hands going down to her zipper again. Just as she found the package of condoms, he managed to open her jeans and pulled them down, together with her knickers.

His hand then moved in between her legs, two fingers pressing against her clit.

"Oh dear," Hermione gasped as lightning of pleasure shot through her body.

She heard him opening his own trousers with his other hand, but didn't really care, because the way he manipulated her clitoris was out of this world. She had had good sex before, but never like this.

Too soon, he removed his fingers and pulled her back into the bed. He turned them around so he was on top and pulled the box of condoms from her hand.

She took the opportunity to admire him. Even though he hadn't been as bulky as Thorfinn, he still had muscles. It was the lean kind of someone who ran rather than someone who lifted weights. He was also surprisingly hairless for a man, but it seemed to be natural rather than shaved.

And then there was the cock. Her attention was drawn to it as he slowly put on the condom. It was impressive in girth, which she had always preferred to length. But there was nothing to complain about in the length department either. It had to be a good six inches.

"My eyes are up here," he said with a chuckle.

She blushed and looked up to his face, once again caught gawking.

"But I take it you like what you see?" he continued.

She nodded, feeling a bit shy despite her horniness.

"Good, because I'm going to fuck you now."

He lowered himself onto her and guided himself into her wet opening. She inhaled sharply at feeling filled again after so many months without sex. But it was a very nice feeling, so she closed her eyes and just enjoyed it.

When he was fully inside, he leaned in and started to kiss her again. She moved her legs around his waist, making him sink even deeper into her. He moaned in pleasure.

"You strike me as the kind of girl who likes it hard and fast," he purred into her ear.

She hadn't reflected over it, but when he began fucking her, she figured he must be right. Because she really, really liked it. She had to move her feet down on the mattress again so she could meet his strokes, otherwise he would have fucked her into the wall. Every hit into her made her see stars. Wonderful, exhilarating stars. She screamed as the orgasm washed over her, and it was prolonged by his continued thrusts.

When he came, she had lost all sense of time. He fell next to her side, and they lay in silence a few minutes, catching their breath.

As she came down from the high of the orgasm and started to become aware of her surroundings again, she suddenly realised she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She had never had a one-night stand before; what did you talk about afterwards? Did he expect to spend the night?

He appeared to have read her thoughts, because he leaned over her again and kissed her, more sensually this time.

"I will take my leave. I guess you have a lot to do tomorrow," he said and gestured at her stack of packed and unpacked boxes, which she had completely forgotten about.

"Oh, yes. I'm moving tomorrow night," she said, modestly pulling her cover around her as he got off the bed.

"I figured," he said, getting dressed. "Good luck, then."

"Thanks," she said, realising there wouldn't be any cuddling or exchange of phone numbers. But she was too tired to over-analyze that. The alcohol and the orgasm still made her feel high. When he shut the door and her head met the pillow again, she fell into a blissful sleep.

"You shagged, too!"

Ginny only had to look once at Hermione to come to that realisation. She had come over at noon to help Hermione with the last of her packing, but it was clear they would now speak about other things.

"Yes, and so did you, big night for us," Hermione said, not feeling as chipper as her friend. She had a hangover.

"You have to tell me everything," Ginny ordered. "What was he like? Who came on to whom? How big was his cock?"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing a pair of socks at her head.

Ginny giggled and caught it, putting it in the box she was packing.

"Fine, then just tell me this: did you enjoy it?"

Hermione thought about it, and despite the hangover headache, she smiled. "Immensely."

Her parents came by that evening and picked up her and all her things. They'd move everything up to the school in Scotland the following day and install Hermione into Hogwarts. Unlike now, she would live in the school. Her parents had paid for a single room, telling her it was cheaper than renting a house with others in Hogsmeade. And on the plus side, she would be close to the library and got all meals served to her.

Even though she would miss the freedom she had now, she did look forward to being able to focus only on her school work for the two years she was going to stay. Not having to cook was the big upside. The last years in the student room had made her come to terms with that she would never be a good chef.

Though, some of the rules were a bit extreme, in her opinion. Apparently, you couldn't have a member of the opposite sex in your room after ten o'clock (didn't say anything about what to do if you were not heterosexual, though) and relationships between students and faculty members were strictly forbidden. Other rules were more reasonable. You could not have pets, because of allergies, for example. Though, that rule did sadden Hermione. She had always loved cats and owned an old, grumpy one named Crookshanks. But he would have to stay with her parents.

It was evening when they arrived at Hogwarts. The school yard was filled with cars from students who were also moving in. She was shocked by how many there were. Even though it was an exclusive school, it did admit people from all around the world. And judging by the size of the school, they would certainty fit.

She said school, but really, it was a castle. She had seen it on pictures, of course, but it was nothing to seeing it in real life. A real castle! With towers and everything!

The inside of it was just as magnificent. It was decorated in a way that made her think of medieval times. Old portraits of famous academicians, politicians and royalty hung on the walls. Stone figures shaped as both real and imagined animals stood in the niches, and here and there were old armours.

They followed the stream of people into the great hall where the information about the rooms were. Hermione gasped. Tall windows had coloured glass in them, creating beautiful patterns. The ceiling was painted, like in a church, but instead of religious motives, it looked like a blue sky with some clouds. Since that was how the weather had been, it was almost as if there was no roof at all.

"I think we have to go there, honey," Mrs Granger said, interrupting Hermione's inspection of the room.

She followed her mother to a designated table marked "Students in Political Science". A woman not much older than Hermione and clearly a student gave her a map of the castle and a pile of information papers as well as a key to her room. It was on the seventh floor, in a tower called "Gryffindor". From her readings, she knew that Gryffindor had been one of the founders of the school. She knew students got assigned rooms at random, but she couldn't be happier. Some unlucky people had to live in rooms in the dungeons.

Though, walking up all the stairs to the tower, Hermione started to think that maybe she wasn't that lucky after all. It would be a pain going up and down every day to get to the Great Hall for food, and then, her classes.

The room was small, with just a four-poster bed, a dresser and desk standing by the window. However, when she and her parents had put up her books and some paintings, it felt a lot cosier.

"We'll see you at the Christmas, love," her father said, hugging her. "If you need anything, just call. You must have reception here, right?"

"Thanks, Dad," Hermione said. "And yes, both mobile reception and internet. If you learn how to use your computer, I can even email you!"

"Let's stick with the phone for now," her mother said, giving her a hug as well.

Her parents left, and Hermione continued putting away her clothes and other things. Once she was done, she left the room to check out the common room.

There were several common rooms in the castle, and students could come and go to whichever they wanted. The closest one to her was just down the hall from her room. It was named Gryffindor's common room, just like the tower.

She made herself a cup of tea with the electric water boiler and looked around. There were several students there, some sitting alone, drinking tea or coffee. Some were talking happily to each other in one of the many seating groups. At once, Hermione felt herself becoming shy. She had never been good at taking the first step with new people.

Should she just go back to her room and try to make contact once she knew who were in her class? That would probably be an easier opening, talking about class.

Before she could make up her mind, a woman sitting alone in an armchair caught her eye and smiled. Hermione took it as an invitation and went over.

"Mind if I sit here?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the armchair next to the woman.

"Please," she said. "I'm Angelina Johnson."

Hermione shook her offered hand before sitting down. "Hermione Granger."

"You must be new here? I don't recall seeing you last year."

"Yes, I just got here. How long have you been here?" Most students only stayed to take their master's degree, but Hermione knew that some got to stay on for a doctorate program.

"This is my fourth," Angelina said. "I'm a doctorate in the Sociology department. What will you study?"

"Political science," Hermione explained, relieved to have found someone friendly right away.

"Oh, you are in for a treat then," Angelina said, her smile widening. "Professor Riddle will teach the first term this year. He is yummy."

Hermione tried remembering if she had ever read the name anywhere, but couldn't recall. "Is he new here?"

"Not really. He was one of the youngest Professors ever, but last year, he agreed to join the prime minister, Mr Thicknesse as one of his advisers. I heard Thicknesse practically begged him to help him out at the beginning of his turn in office. But now it seems Thicknesse can manage on his own, because Professor Riddle is back. It was just decided."

"Strange, I can't remember reading about him," she said. "And I have followed a great deal about Thicknesse's policy making. I don't remember his name turning up."

Angelina shrugged. "Professor Riddle doesn't seem interested to be in the limelight. I've heard other teachers wondering why he doesn't become prime minister himself. He supposedly has all the right connections. But it seems like he doesn't like the spotlight. At least not the public spotlight. He is one of the best lecturers I've ever listened to. And easy on the eye as well."

Hermione was still baffled that she hadn't read anything about him, but became very curious. However, there would be plenty of time to find out more about him in class. Instead, she decided to change the conversation and asked about Angelina's research in Sociology.

They spent another half-an-hour together, until some of Angelina's friends came to them. Angelina introduced Hermione to them, but sensing that they wanted to catch up, she excused herself, claiming tiredness.

She was indeed tired. The bed was very comfortable, and it didn't take long until she had fallen asleep, not waking up until her alarm went off.

With the map, she managed to find her way back to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was already filled with students, eating at four long tables while the teachers ate at a fifth one. Today was the first official day, though there were mostly going to be introductions and information regarding the school and not so much lecturing.

Either way, Hermione was excited and even more so when she saw Angelina waving at her to come and join her.

She was halfway through her porridge when Angelina nudged her side.

"There he is, Professor Riddle," she said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at the direction she was pointing and saw a tall man with black hair walking towards the teacher's table. He looked very familiar—

She dropped the spoon into the porridge, creating a splash.

No, it couldn't be!

Once again, it was almost as if he sensed that she was looking, because his eyes fell on her. And she was sure he recognised her, too.

Tom.

The man she had fucked just two days before. Who had made her muscles work so hard she still felt sore. Who had given her a love bite on her shoulder, which was thankfully covered by her blouse.

She had had sex with her professor.

Professor Tom Riddle had no problem recognising Hermione Granger. She hadn't given him her full name, but he had seen it on the door to her room. He sighed, but decided to ignore her for now. It was just typical. He rarely picked up women at pubs, but of course, the one he did turned out to be his student.

He had only slept with her because he thought she would be a political force to be reckoned with in the future. Fucking her had been just a precaution. Either she turned out to be an asset and he could use their night together to bind her to his projects, or she would be a rival. In that case, he could use the night to blackmail her.

And if she didn't turn up on the political field at all, but decided to pursue another career, it was not like he minded fucking a young, beautiful woman. He had thought he couldn't lose.

But now she was in a position to harm his career. If she told anyone they had fucked, some of the other teachers as well as politicians and the media would start asking questions. They wouldn't be able to kick him or her out because it had happened before she was officially a student, but it would make them suspicious. It wasn't like she was the first woman he had used that tactic on. If the media found one of them…

He ate his breakfast in silence while thinking of a way to make this problem go away before it even happened. He could make sure the media never found the other women; that would be the easiest thing to handle. Some blackmail here, an imprisonment there, some gifts… no, none of them would trouble him.

Hermione would be the only troublesome one. He just didn't know enough about her. After they had fucked, he had thought it would be years before she became interesting to him, politically. He hadn't bothered to read up about her at all after their night, having more pressing matters to attend to, like the start of term. Now, he would have to collect information before he came up with a plan.

Finishing his breakfast fast, he went back to his chambers in the castle. He picked up the pre-paid mobile phone he used when he didn't want to be able to be traced and put in the number to one who would be able to help him. At the same time, he put on his computer and sat down by his desk.

"Rookwood," a soft voice answered.

"Augustus, it's me. What do you have on Hermione Granger?" he asked, getting straight to business.

Rookwood was a contact within the very centre at the Ministry: the archives. He could get information on anything and anyone, whether he had the right security clearance or not. It was a nice little bug in the Ministry's security system.

"Let's see…" Tom could hear Rookwood's fingers on the keyboard. "Hermione Granger, born September 19th, 1979 in Dartford. Graduated Cambridge with highest honours this spring. Accepted into Hogwarts for the postgraduate program in Political Science… a student of yours, then?"

"So it would appear. What else?" Tom said, his tone indicating that he didn't want any personal comments from Rookwood.

"Right. Hm… she did an internship here at the Ministry a year ago for Mafalda Hopkirk's office. Arthur Weasley recommended her, stating she is a long family friend and dedicated student. Hopkirk was one of the people who later recommended her to Hogwarts together with … oh, Shacklebolt. How on earth did she meet him at Hopkirk's office?"

Rookwood was quiet for a moment, and Tom could hear him typing.

"Here we are, Granger helped coordinating a case about some half-criminal kids. Shacklebolt makes it sound that without her intervention, the kids' case would have fallen through the cracks in the system. He says that she is remarkable in her compassion and resourcefulness and will be a great asset to society."

Tom mentally sighed. If she got the praise of people like Shacklebolt, it would be hard to convince her to join his party's ideology. Not impossible, but hard. Perhaps it would be better to just discourage her. Make an embarrassment of her politically so she would have to start another career.

"Oh, now this is interesting," Rookwood said, interrupting Tom's line of thought. "She has figured in some police reports. Never convicted though, but she has been the interest in some investigations. A girl in her high school was scarred for life after an accident. However, the girl in question blamed Miss Granger because … Oh my, this is linked to the Dolores Umbridge case. The girl claimed Miss Granger had been behind the leak."

Tom got interested at once. Dolores Umbridge had been a politician who had taken over as Headmistress in a high school in central London. There had been a political witch hunt on the former Headmaster, who was also a political adviser. Headmaster Dumbledore had been forced to step down during an ongoing investigation. However, he had quickly been reinstated again when the media and police found out that Umbridge had used physical punishment on students who she thought disobeyed school rules. The evidence had been overwhelming. Film and photography from the punishment themselves, but that was not all. Someone had even managed to gather records about tax evasion. It had been enough to send Umbridge to prison for a very long time.

"E-mail me all the files," Tom ordered.

It wasn't just about getting information about Hermione now. No, now he was actually intrigued. He had been behind the scheme to take down Dumbledore. The Headmaster had been just like Shacklebolt, socialistic goody two-shoes who were all about high taxes and destroying the classes in society. Dumbledore was a shadow player, just like Tom, but Tom very much wanted to take him down. Alas, that plan had failed when Umbridge came out as the villain. But then, Tom shouldn't have left it up to the likes of Fudge to appoint the right candidate for the job.

Well, Fudge had paid for that mistake dearly by losing his prime minister post to Tom's hand-picked candidate. You didn't thwart Tom Riddle's plans and got away with it.

In the end, everything had worked out for the best, though. Dumbledore had passed away, and Tom could leave London to his colleagues for now. He still wanted to teach at Hogwarts. And if it took poisoning an old man to do it, then so be it.

However, if Hermione had something to do with exposing Umbridge, he wanted to know. Not that he was sure what he would do with her if that were the case. No, the mistake had been to let someone as pitiful as Umbridge take over the post in the first place. It was ancient history now. But if she had managed to unravel a lot of information about Umbridge at such a young age, not to mention informing the press without anyone finding out, then maybe it would be worth trying to recruit her after all.

Rookwood sent the files to him, and Tom hung up. As he read through them, he became even more intrigued. The girl who had tried to rat Hermione out had had a chemistry set explode in her face, leaving scars on her face. It had been written off as a terrible accident (perhaps because of Umbridge neglect in school safety), but the girl had consistently blamed Hermione. The police had even questioned her together with some of her friends.

But there seemed to be no motive behind it. However, as Tom read, he started to see another picture. He recognised the girl's surname as belonging to one of Umbridge's allies during her time at the Ministry. It must have been her mother. The girl claimed to have overheard Hermione and some of her friends discuss how to get rid of Umbridge and had taken it to the Headmistress. It had resulted in detention for one of the friends, but not Hermione. The friend, one Harry Potter, had got permanent scarring from the lashing.

However, since Hermione hadn't been the one getting in trouble, and Mr Potter hadn't been one of the cases filmed, the police could see no ties between the two incidents. Besides, how could you rig a chemistry set to go off when one specific person was going to use it?

Tom was cleverer than most and definitely cleverer than the police officer who had conducted the investigation. This was no accident. It was vengeance, cold and vicious. And that made Hermione a woman of his taste.

Though, it could be that she felt guilty about it and that was why she seemed to work so hard for all these goody two-shoes projects. It was too early to tell, but she showed potential.

When classes started, Hermione was still at the back of his mind. He didn't know exactly how to approach her and decided to let her take the first step. Therefore, when he held an introduction for her class, he treated her as if she was no different than the rest of them.

He could feel her eyes at him at all times, though. As if she was trying to get his attention. But she wasn't the only one. He was used of having the undivided attention of all his listeners. She wasn't even drooling or making goo-goo eyes at him, like a couple of her classmates. Though, he was used to that, too.

"I know that today is just supposed to be an introduction," he finished his introduction of the course and himself. "However, in politics, you are often forced to make fast decisions and roll with the punches. Therefore, you'll have an assignment for tomorrow. I want you to pick a political ideology, or a variation you can think of, and write down pros and cons of a society built on that ideology. But, it can only be five hundred words long."

Some members in the class groaned, but he was pleased that Hermione wasn't one of them. She wanted to prove herself. Good.

"Bring me a copy of your assignment to the beginning of the lecture tomorrow. And I can't believe I have to say this, but do make sure to add your name to it. You'd be surprised how many student fail each year just because they've forgotten that."

The class gave a nervous chuckle.

"That will be all," he said, dismissing the class.

Most of the class left at once, including Hermione. Some hung around, trying to ask him more about the assignment.

"You have been given the premise of the assignment, if you forgot to copy it down, ask a classmate," he merely told them.

They weren't supposed to know what he was after. If they were to ever survive in politics, either as an adviser, politician or researcher, they would need to be able to think fast with little information. It was his way of finding out who had what it took to make it in this field.

He also got an inkling which ones worked together and which ones worked alone. With so little information, most students talked about it together, and thus, their papers got a similar approach.

When he had waved off the last student, he went back to his quarters. He was planning to spend the rest of the afternoon finding more information about Hermione. However, he had only just shut the door to his office (which led to the rest of his quarters) when there was a knock on his door.

Hermione must have followed him at a distance. He was surprised; he hadn't seen her on the way, and he usually noticed the people around him.

"We need to talk," she said, her tone bossy, but he could see that she was nervous.

He gestured for her to come inside and closed the door behind her.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you?" he asked, strolling over to his desk before turning around, leaning against it.

She crossed her arms. "You know who I am?"

"Of course."

"And you remember the other night?"

"Naturally, otherwise I'd assume you were here about the assignment, and then, I'd dismiss you like I did with the others."

She scoffed. "The assignment was pretty clear. Catching us off guard like that and the secrecy of what the assignment is for. You want to know what we are made of. Force us to think like politicians instead of students."

He was quite impressed, but didn't deny or confirm it. "I take it you want to talk about the other night, then?"

"We have to, don't we?" she said, at once looking more uncertain. "I had no idea who you were. I don't expect any special treatment or a higher grade or something. I was just …" she trailed off, looking at the ground.

He studied her in silence for a moment. "I hadn't heard of you either. I assumed you were too young to risk being one of my new students, even when you told me what you studied. But you needn't fear, I won't give you a higher or lesser grade because of your sexual talents."

Her face flushed red. "Good. I didn't really think you would, I was just— I wanted to make sure."

"Of course. Then I will ask you: are you planning to attempt to blackmail me if I don't give you the grade you think you deserve?"

She looked up in shock. "No! Of course not. Why would you think that?"

He chuckled. "I teach political science and I've worked with politicians for years. If you think that inquiry is shocking, you are in the wrong line of work."

A flame of anger flashed through her eyes. "Oh, I'm well aware what _some_ politicians are willing to do for power. I want to _earn_ my grade."

Then, as an afterthought, she added. "Besides, it's not like I have any proof that we slept together. Ginny only saw us talking and so did the others in the bar. It would be my word against yours."

"Indeed. More likely than not, you will be the one expelled from Hogwarts for spreading rumours about me," he agreed, though he wondered if Hermione was thinking of Umbridge when she said _some_ politicians. Did she hate those kinds of politicians so much? That didn't exactly bode well for his hopes for her.

Hermione just huffed.

"Well then, it seems we have reached an agreement," he concluded. "You won't tell and I won't give you an unearned grade."

"Yes. Good," she said, still looking a bit annoyed by his comment of her being in the wrong line of work. Well, if she couldn't handle a personal attack, then the same was true. Politicians fought dirty.

However, if his suspicion about her were true, she already knew that.

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of her exchange with Tom. He hadn't threatened her, but at the same time, she just knew that he wouldn't let her ruin his reputation.

However, she had no reason to tell anyone about them. If it weren't for Hogwarts rules about no intimate relationships between students and faculty members, she wouldn't have had any problems with what had happened as long as he didn't. They were both adults, and he had in no way forced her to have sex with him. She had enjoyed it, and he didn't seem to regret it either.

So why had he acted like he was toying with her? That quirk about her being in the wrong line of work if she didn't understand how dirty politicians could be. Or had that been an indirect threat?

Not feeling like socialising with all the thoughts about Tom swirling around in her mind, she headed straight for her room after dinner. She did have his assignment to write out.

Normally, she hated having to write so shortly about something she was so passionate about. She wanted to research and support any claim she had with at least three footnotes. However, this wasn't a research paper, this was an opinion paper. She had learned the difference early on when her old Professor, Lupin, had sat down with her. He had told her that she had a lot of potential and had a better grasp on facts than most teachers. The thing she lacked was trust in her own opinions when she knew someone was going to grade them.

"If you learn to trust what you know, without having to look it up in a book, then you will have the bravery to put forth your own opinions. The only time you should verify right away is when your decision directly affects other people's well-being."

Lupin had then given her a special assignment. "These are the subjects I will hand out to the class tomorrow, which you'll then have time to prepare to the next seminar. However, I want you to take half-an-hour now, pick out one subject, and write down your thoughts, without even looking at a book. I'll stay here and do some grading. Then, you'll hand it in to me. I won't grade you on it, you'll get to do the assignment with the other students tomorrow. However, once we are finished, you and I will sit down and go over the differences in the papers. I think you'll see what I mean, then."

It had taken her the better part of her undergraduate years to get the hang of it, but she was now confident enough to put her own opinions on paper for a teacher to see. And she particularly wanted to show Tom that she wasn't scared of whatever remark he would give her.

Putting on her laptop, she began to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Reading through the first assignment of the term was a special pleasure to Tom. He sorted the students into two piles: useless and potential. Hermione landed in the second pile. Clever, passionate and well-read. Her charisma and rhetoric could use some work, but definitely a diamond in a rough.

He would have to fuck her again. She was one of those who got emotionally committed to a cause and then found reasonable arguments for being committed. If she got emotionally committed to him, chances were he could mould her into becoming the next prime minister.

Therefore, he decided to accidentally run into her again in a setting outside of school. He noticed who her friends were and overheard them talking about going down to Hogsmeade Friday, to celebrate surviving their first week at school.

Hogsmeade was really just a tiny village, but it lived off the students of Hogwarts. Thus, it had everything students liked. Nowhere else would two pubs and a dance place survive with such a small population. Not only that, but there were also several coffee places (every one with WiFi), a joke shop, book store (specialising in student literature), and clothing stores.

The population was mostly made of students, which meant that every summer, almost everything was closed. Those who wanted entertainment then had to travel to the closest city, Inverness.

Tonight, however, the village was thriving. Everywhere, music and laughing was heard. Tom made his way into The Three Broomsticks together with one of his colleagues. Severus Snape, one of the professors in chemistry, was as bitter and ugly as he was talented and immoral. Thus, Tom had found several uses for him. Just recently, Severus had manufactured several thousands of pounds worth of meth to support Thicknesse's campaign. Tom would never go as far as to say he liked the man, but he was amusing company from time to time.

"You will have to buy me a lot of whiskey if you want me to survive tonight," Severus muttered as they sat down at a table in the back where they had full view of the pub.

"There is not enough alcohol in the world to make you able to stand students, Severus," Tom reminded him. It wasn't just students Severus loathed, it was pretty much everyone. However, students held a special place in the man's dark heart.

Severus huffed. "Will you tell me what we are doing here?"

"No, it's more fun to keep you guessing," Tom said, watching as Hermione and her friends entered the pub as well.

She wasn't in the middle of the group, but rather seemed to be tagging along. She was smiling, though, which told him she didn't feel left out. When they took a table, she sat at the end, but still got to talk to the woman sitting next to her.

"Hermione!" A young man with unruly black hair and round glasses suddenly rose from the bar, going over to her.

Hermione rose, too, clearly surprised. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

They hugged. Tom didn't like it. It was obvious to him that this Harry character liked Hermione quite a bit. He was blushing and his smile was too bright. She, however, didn't seem to share his affection. Good.

"Just found out Tuesday that I was going on training up in Inverness. When I realised how close Hogwarts was, I figured I could come by and surprise you. I had Ginny ask if you'd be leaving the castle this weekend."

Hermione laughed. "Wow, it's good to see you! But where are my manners? Let me introduce you."

She turned back to her table of friends who had all been watching the exchange. Introductions were made before Harry and Hermione sat back down.

Right then, Tom noticed that Severus was also looking at the table, but his features screamed of anger.

"Someone you recognise?" Tom asked, mildly interested.

"That boy," Severus growled. "Spitting image of his worthless father."

"Oh?"

"Potter. He killed himself and his wife in a car crash twenty years ago," Severus spat. "Useless prick."

Tom recalled a drunken rant Severus had held some years previous about the "love of his life" who had married his nemesis. "Lily Evans's Potter?"

"Yes," Severus hissed.

They continued to drink in silence for half an hour. Severus grumbled furiously from time to time, but Tom merely observed Hermione and her friends. He didn't like this boy. It was clear that he wanted to shag Hermione, and only some sense of manner held him back. However, they were both drinking quite a bit and Tom didn't want them to have a drunken fuck. If he judged Hermione correctly (and he was certain he did), she wouldn't be able to just walk away from fucking her friend. No, she'd want to work it out and it would set Tom's plans back.

He had to stop it before it even began.

Pulling up his phone, he rang the person he was confident could intervene.

"'ello?" a husky voice answered.

"Bella," he greeted her. "I have a job for you. How soon can you be in Hogsmeade?"

"Is it for you or someone else, love?" she asked, lust clear in her voice.

"Someone else."

She sighed in disappointment. "Half hour?"

"Wear something red."

He hung up, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Why do you need Bella?" Severus asked, his curiosity taking his attention away from the Potter boy.

"She will keep Potter company tonight," Tom answered with a smirk.

Bella was his go-to girl when it came to sexual favours. She would never call herself a prostitute, but the truth was that she'd sleep with anyone for the right price. And anyone who had a sexual orientation towards women would sleep with her.

"I was under the impression that you weren't in her favour after you threw her out of your bed last summer," Severus stated, calling upon the waitress to get another glass of whiskey.

"I made her reconsider," Tom answered, remembering the night with a smile.

Bella was useful in many ways, but she had a tendency to overstep her welcome. She was madly in love with him, and sometimes, he had to become forceful in his rejection. Sometimes, she would try to bribe him and manipulate him into fucking her, but she wasn't as clever as she liked to believe. He humoured her from time to time, but besides her physical talents, she was boring company.

"Will she torture him?" Severus asked, looking hopeful.

It wasn't just pleasure Bella was good at, she was also a master of punishing people. All things physical.

"No. Not tonight, at least," Tom said, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He didn't like the way Potter touched Hermione's arm.

By the time Bella came, Tom had finished his second drink and Severus was down to his fourth. He went outside when she called him, ready for orders.

"Tom, darling," she purred when she saw him, her heavy-lidded eyes watching him lustfully.

"Bella," he said, eyeing her attire.

Per his request, she was wearing a red dress. Many other women he had met in his line of business thought that "seduce" meant low cut and short with lots of make-up. While that worked, too, Bella had her own much more sophisticated look. It wasn't the way she dressed that made her seducing, it was her whole way of being.

The dress didn't show off any cleavage at all, but had a turtle-neck. The arms were bare but for a thin black see-through shawl. The dress ended right below her knees and she wore black high heels. The only really noticeable make-up was her red lipstick.

"Who is the target?" she asked when he had nodded in approval.

"Harry Potter," he answered. "The young man with the messy black hair and round glasses. He sits next to a woman with bushy brown hair, in the middle of the room."

"Are we making incriminating pictures?" she asked, hopeful.

"Yes. If he has any fetishes, it would be helpful," Tom said. It never hurt to have questionable pictures of people. He had a whole file. Though, in this case, he didn't really care, all he wanted was to get Potter away from Hermione. But Bella couldn't know that. She was very jealous when Tom was interested in other women.

Therefore, Bella would think Tom was just after blackmail material.

Bella opened her black leather purse and picked up a cigarette and a lighter. "Usual payment?"

"I'll send you a package tomorrow night," he promised.

She giggled and lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply. "You will have to come by soon, darling. Rodolphus always travels. A girl gets lonely."

"I'll see what I can do," he said with a smile and then turned around and went into the pub again.

As he did, he saw Hermione look up, noticing him for the first time. He gave her a quick smile before joining Severus again, waiting for the fun to start.

Bella was quite the actress when she wanted to be. She entered the pub like she owned it and didn't really seem to notice anyone. But everyone noticed her. The grace and determination of her walk was just not something you missed.

While many just cast a quick glance (like Hermione), there were still a lot who stared at her. Potter was one of them. But then again, Bella chose a path between the tables so that she was directly in Potter's line of sight.

She sat down at the bar, her back straight and her legs crossed. Immediately, a man at the bar moved closer to her and offered her a drink. Bella accepted, but only kept half her focus on him. She was looking at her phone at the same time, no doubt finding out as much as possible about Potter.

"Why you keep her around I'll never understand," Severus muttered next to him.

"And that's why you will never be anything more than a teacher," Tom responded calmly.

Severus huffed. "Isn't she too old to be with someone like Potter?"

"She is just thirty. Or do you mean you would say no to a twenty-one year old if you had the chance?"

"Of course, they are still children! Even the so-called adults I teach don't seem to have more sense than horny fifteen-year-olds," Severus muttered.

Tom looked at Hermione again, who was starting to look a bit tired. She kept glancing at her watch on her wrist.

"Good to know that it's not a sense of morale that has kept you from sleeping with a student," Tom remarked.

"Have you slept with a student?" Severus suddenly asked, sharply.

Tom slowly turned his head, looking at him coldly. Severus knew better than to ever question him. And indeed, Severus quickly looked away, ashamed.

"I have grown bored with your company for tonight, Severus," Tom said softly. "Leave."

"Of course, excuse me," Severus muttered and got up, quickly leaving the pub.

Tom huffed. Just because he was his colleague, didn't make Severus equal to him. Tom had taken the man in when he was fresh out of high school. Severus had been poor, and his abusive father had died, leaving him without a home. Talented as he was, Severus had started making meth. However, he had made the mistake of selling to the wrong people.

Tom had saved him and given him better facilities and a safer clientèle. Once Severus got through college, Tom had helped him get a job at Hogwarts, first as a doctorate in chemistry, which had led to him becoming a professor.

However, they both knew that if Severus displeased Tom, he would soon lose everything. Tom had enough evidence to put Severus in prison for a long time.

Thus, it wasn't strange that Severus sometimes pried and tried to find something he could hold over Tom's head.

But he always kept it careful. They both knew that Tom wasn't above killing Severus if it came to that.

Hermione had been quite baffled to see Harry in Hogsmeade, and she still wasn't sure what to think about it. It was of course nice to see him, but she got the uncomfortable feeling that it was more than just friendship that made Harry come here tonight.

Did he think that just because they were staying in the same part of the country, something would happen between them?

She also didn't know what to think about Tom being in the pub as well. At first, he had been there with a colleague, but now he just sat there. Was he waiting for someone else? Should she get up and say hi?

No, she shouldn't do that. She wasn't drunk enough for something that bold. And it wasn't like she had any reason to want to go and talk to him.

Except that he was so sexy and she had been dreaming highly erotic dreams about him for the past two nights.

She sighed. Nothing could happen between them again. He was her teacher. It was forbidden.

"Excuse me," a soft, husky voice said, making Hermione look up.

It was the woman Hermione had seen her coming in earlier, but she didn't recognise her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with long lush black hair and heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, smiling shyly. "I had to ask – aren't you Harry?"

Harry blinked up at her, as if he was trying to place her. "Er, that's right. Do I know you?"

The woman seemed a bit disappointed. "I'm Bella. Bella Lestrange. We met a few years back, I was lost in London and you were with some friends, coming home from some party; you let me borrow your phone to call a taxi."

When Harry still just looked confused, Bella blushed. "Er, sorry. Perhaps I'm wrong. I just – that night I was so distressed, I don't think I actually got a chance to thank you, or, whoever it was that helped me."

"Oh, that's okay. I'm not sure I remember, but if I did help you, then it's no problem at all. I'd be happy to help someone who was lost," Harry said, also blushing slightly.

Bella smiled a dazzling smile. "Then, perhaps I could buy the next round? I still feel like I want to thank someone for the help I got that night. And if it wasn't you, then at least I can buy a round to apologise for interrupting."

"No, that's okay, you don't have to—" Harry began.

"Aw, come on, Harry, if someone wants to pay the next round, who are we to say no?" Angelina chipped in. "Join us, Bella!"

Hermione had to say that she was relieved that Bella had joined them. Harry's focus was no longer on her, but on the sexy stranger.

Therefore, she didn't feel guilty when she half-an-hour later, bid her friends goodbye. She was feeling quite tipsy and felt like she should get back to the castle before she was drunk. She had a lot of studying to do tomorrow and she didn't fancy doing it with a hangover.

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Harry asked, clearly being torn between wanting to spend time with her and spending more time with Bella.

"Yeah, sorry, have to make an early start tomorrow," Hermione said. "But I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, still looking a bit guilty. "So you don't want me to follow you up to the castle?"

"No, that's fine; it's not that far," Hermione said, leaning in and giving him a goodbye hug. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight," the others at the table chimed.

Before Harry could object more, Hermione hurried outside.

When the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh. She hoped Harry would get over whatever crush he had on her soon. She just didn't feel the same way. Hopefully Bella could help. She had appeared to be very interested in Harry. And well, Hermione could understand that. Harry was cute enough and very nice and thoughtful. He just wasn't for her.

Breathing in the pleasant summer night, she started to walk the road down the village. However, before she had even managed to take five steps, the door to the pub opened again and someone else came out, walking behind her.

As a reflex, she glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Tom.

She stopped in her tracks, unsure why.

Tom smiled as he came up to her. "Good evening, Miss Granger. Fancy company back up to the school?"

She nodded, surprised and quite happy that he asked. Then again, it would be quite awkward not to accompany each other since they were going the same way and knew each other.

"How have you enjoyed your first week at Hogwarts?" Tom asked once they began walking again.

"Oh, it has been lovely," Hermione answered truthfully. "I'm really enjoying all my classes; they are just as challenging and interesting as I had hoped."

"I'm happy we could live up to your expectations," Tom said, smiling.

"Yes, and then some," Hermione said, smiling shyly. "You are a very skilled lecturer."

"You flatter me," he said with a laugh. "You are a very skilled student as well. I know we have high standards for our students in general, but thus far, you have managed to exceed my expectations for a student in your year."

"Oh? In what way?" she asked, both very flattered and curious.

"Your insights into Stalinism in our latest discussion, for example. Seeing it as another religion is an interesting take."

"I actually wrote a paper on it last year," Hermione admitted, a bit embarrassed that he would think she was usually that well read. "That's why I had it so fresh in mind and could come with so many examples."

"That's hardly something to be ashamed of. It's important to remember what you have studied before and incorporate it into your work today," Tom said wisely. "Do you mind telling me more of what the paper was about?"

Hermione didn't mind at all. She hardly noticed where they were going, and before she knew it, they were up at the castle. However, since his rooms were in the same direction as hers, Hermione kept up the discussion.

Alas, too soon, they were stopping in front of his door. Hermione stopped talking, sighing.

"I didn't mean to babble your ears off," she said, blushing. "I do that when a subject interests me."

"Passion is never something to apologise for," Tom said, his hand on the handle of the door. "In fact ... I have a book that I know would interest you."

He opened the door and gestured for her to follow him inside, through his office, into his chambers.

If Hermione had been sober, she would probably have remembered that students were discouraged from going into teachers' personal chambers. As it was now, she was just curious on what book Tom could have and happy over the prospect of spending more time with him discussing political theory.

He led her into what looked like a combined work place and sitting room. He gestured for her to sit down on the brown leather sofa as he walked over to the bookshelves. The books were neatly organised. She assumed it was alphabetically since the titles closest to her all had authors beginning on x and y. He pulled out a book closer to the other side of the room and walked back to her, holding a purple binding.

She smiled as she recognised it right away. "That's one of Professor Dumbledore's books!"

He appeared surprised as he sat down next to her. "You have read him then?"

"Some of them," Hermione answered, accepting the book, titled _For the Greater Good_. "But I have only heard of this, never read it."

"No, few have. Albus was somewhat of an... ah, radical when he was younger. It only sold in some hundred copies before they stopped publishing it. Albus later gave out an article where he renounced the theories in this book. Calling it the ideas of a naive young idealist. But if you are familiar with his later work, I'm sure this will interest you. It gives an insight in how your perspective as a thinker can change with age. Ideals that are natural for you now can in retrospect appear ... worrisome."

She snorted. "Is that a hint?"

He chuckled. "No, just something that all researchers should remember. It's important to always appear certain when you write down your theories, but always doubt in private."

Hermione stroked the cover of the book, tracing Dumbledore's name with her fingers. It was engraved with a silver print.

"When did you read Albus's books?" Tom asked.

"He was my headmaster in high school," Hermione admitted. "One of my closest friends, Harry, was there on a scholarship and Professor Dumbledore was his mentor. So I talked to him a few times and found a few of his books in the library. Though, most of them were too complicated for me back then."

"I'd imagine. He had many interesting ideas, but his writings were sometimes overcomplicated," Tom said, chuckling softly.

"Did you know him?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Tom said softly. "I was once accepted into that school on a scholarship, too. Headmaster Dippet was my mentor, but I had Albus as a teacher. A shame what happened to him. First being sacked and then dying before they managed to clear him."

Hermione felt her anger rise at the mere mention of it. "Yes," she hissed.

Tom looked down at her, frowning. "You must have been a student when that happened, right?"

"Yes," Hermione growled. "I'm glad Umbridge got what she deserved."

"Yes, I understood that she was a rather unpleasant woman," Tom agreed.

"Unpleasant? Try sadistic, incompetent and spiteful!" Hermione growled.

"You seem to have personal experience," he noted.

Hermione huffed. It wasn't really a time she liked to think back on. "You could say that. She believed in corporal punishment for detention. I still have scars."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "I can't remember seeing any."

Suddenly, Hermione was painfully reminded that they had had sex, and that they were yet again alone in a private room together. The thought wasn't as unpleasant as she would have thought. In fact, it was rather ... exciting.

"You probably didn't look too closely," she said, her voice lower.

The tension in the room had drastically changed. She was aware of how close they were sitting, his right knee almost touching her left one. She could feel the heat radiating from him, heating her up as well.

"That's a shame," he mumbled. "You have a very lovely body. I would have loved to remember every detail of it."

Her breaths came faster. She wasn't spoiled with male attention such as this. Especially not from men as clever as he was. Was it so strange that she was horny?

"I-I'm not sure we should be doing this," she said, at the same time as she leaned in closer to him. She just wanted to smell his neck. Was that so weird? Every student wanted to smell their teacher's neck, right?

"But we want to," Tom purred, leaning in closer to her as well. "Hogwarts has many rules that are disregarded. Like the mandatory church visit on Sundays. We live in a modern world, with modern values. We are both adults with a healthy appetite for sex; why should some outdated rule stand in our way for doing something we both want to do?"

Hermione could understand his reasoning. She had broken many school rules before. Who would get hurt?

"As long as you know that I'm not doing this for a better grade," she whispered. His thin lips were so inviting. Red and pulsing, almost calling out to her.

"At the rate you are going, you hardly need that," he said with a smile, his hand coming up to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Hermione closed her eyes, leaning into his hand, her mouth falling open in a sigh. His cool fingers felt so nice against her hot skin.

The next moment, his lips pressed against hers in a searing kiss. She moaned, having forgotten what a talented kisser he was. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, so she could get better access to his body.

He didn't seem to mind at all. His hands moved up on her back, pulling her shirt up.

Their kiss broke so he could pull her shirt over her head.

"I want to see all of your body this time," he said, his dark, husky voice sending wonderful vibrations down her spine.

Hermione tilted her head back as he kissed her throat and down to her collarbone. He made short process of her bra, throwing it aside before devouring her breast. She moaned in pleasure as he teased her nipple with his tongue, flicking it until it became hard as rock.

She tried to take a hold of his shirt, opening it, but he grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back and held them there as he kept sucking and kissing her breasts.

The restraining excited her more than she would have thought. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew she could break free with enough force. But being at his mouth's mercy sent a gush of fluid into her knickers.

All too soon, he let go of her arms. But her disappointment was short-lived as he flipped her down on the sofa, opening her trousers and pulling them down, together with her knickers.

She kicked off her shoes, and then wriggled her trousers off completely, throwing them aside as well.

"Don't you have too many clothes on?" she asked, breathlessly, trying to grab the fabric of his shirt again, ripping it open.

"We have all night for that," Tom smirked. "I want to explore every part of your body."

He leaned down again, and that wicked tongue of his licked the line between her breasts, down onto her belly, all the way to her belly button. She moaned at the tickling sensation when he stuck his tongue down there, wriggling around.

Once again, he stopped too soon for her liking. He sat up again, putting her right leg onto his shoulder. He stroked her calf, up to her knee, inspecting a scar she had got from falling of a bike when she was younger.

"I don't think this is the scar you spoke about," he mumbled, kissing it.

She just shook her head. She desperately wanted him to kiss a part of her body further up. Her sex was throbbing with need, dripping wet.

Tom, however, didn't seem to care about her need. Instead, he moved her leg off his shoulder, and used it to flip her around onto her stomach.

"Ah, I suspected as much," he said in a soft voice, his hand coming up to the back of her thighs.

Hermione froze, realising what he was seeing. She wasn't ashamed, per se, but it was hardly a happy and arousing memory. It just filled her with hate and rage, wishing that she could punish Umbridge again and again.

"Flogging is so old fashion. And from a cat o' nine tails as well," he stated, stroking the small lines. "I bet you were celebrating the day she was taken into custody."

"Oh yes," Hermione said. That, at least, was a happy memory.

"Though, if it were me," he continued, leaning in, kissing, the back of her thighs, making her breathe faster again, "I would have wanted to take her down myself."

His hand finally came up between her legs, stroking some liquid from her sex.

"Yes," she gasped.

He kept kissing her thighs as one finger probed her pussy. "So you did have something to do with her getting caught?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said, her eyes closed, mostly focusing on his finger and lips.

"You were the one who filmed her?" he asked, kissing up her backside, to the small of her back.

"No, I just made sure it all happened," she admitted. She hadn't talked about this in years.

"Aren't you a clever girl," Tom whispered, kissing his way up her spine, one finger moving deeper inside her pussy. "And courageous. Few students would have dared to pull a stunt like that off. You probably saved your entire school's education."

Yes, Hermione felt like she had done that, too. She just hadn't dared to tell anyone else about it before. Most would probably think she should have gone to the police. Like they'd listen to a bunch of teenagers. No, she had taken care of it herself, making sure that Umbridge was punished.

Tom brushed her hair aside, kissing her neck, finding one of her more sensitive spots. His finger disappeared from her pussy (why did he always do that when it was just getting good?), but she could hear a zipper being pulled down.

He gripped her hips, pulling her up on her knees, while still holding her head down against the sofa. She felt the head of his penis at the opening of her pussy, and a moment later, she was once again filled by his cock.

She moaned in pleasure, moving back against him, urging him to start thrusting. He obliged.

Keeping a steady grip of her hips, he moved fast and hard. She brought her hands up against the armrest of the sofa, so her head wouldn't hit against it. Her sex was throbbing more and more in pleasure. He was hitting a very special spot inside her, one that made it almost feel as if she had to pee, but in a very pleasing way.

She moved back against him the best she could, but his grip of her hips tightened. It appeared he wanted to decide the pace of the act. Thus, after a few fruitless tries, she gave herself over to him, just enjoying herself.

When she came in an explosion of stars, his right hand moved from her hip, in underneath her. He found her clitoris and began rubbing it furiously. She let out a shriek in surprise and pleasure. She had never experienced anything like it. She never wanted the sensation to end.

It was like the orgasm just kept growing and growing, and all she could see was bright yellow dots behind her eyelids. She wasn't aware of anything but her cunt, there was no time, no space, just her happy cunt.

And that was the last thing she remembered of the evening.

Tom could feel her passing out when he came, emptying himself inside her. When he pulled out, she collapsed in a heap on the sofa.

He fell back as well, enjoying the post orgasmic bliss.

His suspicions had been proved right – she had had something to do with Umbridge's sacking. That was wonderful. She was indeed worth to invest in. He would have to ask her more about it, once he had gained her trust. There was still one question in particular he needed her to answer about Umbridge, and what had happened once she came to prison. But it was too soon now.

For now, he merely lifted up the unconscious girl and carried her over to his bedroom. Most people always felt like the relationship had reached a new level once you had slept together. Tom didn't care for it, but would gladly do it to manipulate Hermione.

Thus, he stripped down and lay down in the bed next to her. It was king size, so at least it was big enough for both of them to rest comfortably. He would wake her up in an equally enjoyable way tomorrow, and then, it would probably not be long until she fancied herself in love. By that time, she would do whatever he wanted.

With that comforting thought, he fell asleep as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tom woke up before Hermione. He turned to his right, and there she was, snoring softly, her face turned towards him. The covers had fallen down to her belly, exposing her breasts to the soft morning light streaming in from the high windows.

It was just after six, but she would need to leave soon so she wouldn't risk running in to anyone, leaving his chambers.

However, despite the early hour, that was no excuse for not waking her up in a most pleasing way.

He crawled close to her, pulling the covers off her completely. Her legs were already open, and he had no problem nudging them aside so he could sit down in between them. It appeared she was a heavy sleeper. Or it was just the alcohol.

He leaned down and slowly started to lick her sex. She was already wet, as many women were in the morning. With the tip of his tongue, he traced her labia, all the way up to her clitoris.

She let out a soft moan, and her legs flexed. He took that as an encouragement to flick the small nub and was rewarded with a gush of liquid forming at the entrance to her cunt. He greedily licked up the fluids, pushing his tongue into her in rapid succession a few times, before moving up to her clitoris again. The nub had become very hard, and he had no problem grasping it between his lips and start sucking.

Hermione let out a cry, her back arching. He could sense that she was waking up, and quickly pushed two fingers inside her. He wanted her to wake up to an orgasm.

He nibbled the clitoris carefully, while at the same time arching his fingers against her sensitive spot at the inside of her cunt.

She was moaning loudly, and he could feel her walls starting to pulse around his fingers.

When he finally pushed her over the edge with a particularly hard suck on her clitoris, she let out a breathless scream. Her legs tightened on either side of his head and her hands came up to his hair, pushing him harder into her groin.

He had no problem breaking free of her grip, though. He brushed her hands aside with his arm and quickly moved on top of her. He withdrew his fingers and instead positioned his hard cock at her opening.

Just as she opened her eyes to stare at him in awe, he pushed inside her, letting out a groan of his own.

He really did enjoy sex in the morning.

Her legs came around his waist, allowing him to sink even deeper into her.

She closed her eyes again, a dreamy smile on her face as she started to meet his thrusts.

He didn't bother trying to keep himself from coming. They didn't have that much time before she had to leave. Thus, he moved fast and hard and came within five minutes.

Thankfully, she didn't try to cuddle when he rolled off her. Instead, she just stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"I could get used to that," she mumbled.

"Good, because I plan to do it again," he stated simply.

They were silent for a minute. He didn't want to just throw her out; that would send her the wrong message. There were still a couple of minutes before she had to leave. Filch, the caretaker, didn't inspect the corridors until seven on the weekends.

"Wait," she suddenly said, sitting up, a frown of worry on her face. "Did you use a condom?"

He smiled at her. "No, but you don't have to worry. I'm sterile, and I check myself regularly. I don't have any diseases."

Her frown didn't ease up. "But I could have some diseases."

"No, you don't."

"How do you know that?" she demanded.

"Because your medical records were transferred to Hogwarts upon your arrival. When I realised you'd be my student, I checked. You tested yourself half a year ago, and I know you haven't been with anyone but me since then," he replied easily.

She stared at him, baffled. "You _checked_ my _medical records_?"

"Teacher privilege," he said with a shrug.

"Don't you need my permission to do that?" she asked, clearly getting angry.

He snorted, sitting up as well. "If you haven't noticed it already, I'm like you, I don't bother with rules that are in my way. Can you honestly say that you are surprised I checked up on you once I realised that you would be my student?"

She still looked angry, but he could see a flash of understanding in her eyes. "You should have asked me instead."

"I'm in politics, I don't really take other people's word for it," he remarked.

She stared at him in disbelief. "So I'm just to take your word for it that you are really sterile and healthy?"

He smiled. "You _are _a quick study."

He got out of bed and went over to his desk, taking a binder he had already prepared for this occasion.

"I trust you comprehend medical terms?" he asked as he handed her the binder.

Still looking doubtful, she nodded and opened the binder. Her brow furrowed as she read through the papers.

"Fine," she finally said. "They seem in order. But how do I know that you haven't just falsified the results?"

"If you get a disease or find yourself pregnant, you'll just go to the Headmistress and tell her about this," he said with a shrug. "Keep the binder. You can have it as proof over how dishonest I've been."

She stared at him in surprised. "How do you know that I won't just go to the Headmistress right now and have you fired?"

He sat down next to her on the bed, gripping her hand. "I'm taking a chance, because you are worth it. And I don't want to wait two years until you have graduated. I'm selfish that way."

Her gaze softened, but she was still a bit tense. "Do you mean ... do you have feelings for me?"

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Yes."

It wasn't even a lie, though she was probably not thinking of the same thing as he was. He wanted to possess her, own her, and form her to his liking. She was just the right balance of trusting, clever and ruthless. He had waited for someone like her to cross his path.

"Oh," she just said. "So you'd like to be ... my boyfriend or something?"

He smiled. The best thing of all, she was still open to manipulation. "Very much."

"But ... won't I get expelled if people find out I'm dating you?"

"Why do people have to find out now?" he asked, bringing his hand up to her chin. "Just because I couldn't wait two years doesn't mean the rest of the world has to know right away."

She was looking a bit doubtful.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Why don't you take a few days and think about it? I won't go anywhere. I understand that this is a much harder decision for you than it is for me."

"I ... I don't want to hurt your feelings," she said carefully.

"The only way you can hurt my feelings is if you rush into this," he said softly. "I'll accept whatever decision you make."

She nodded slowly.

"Now, go and enjoy your Sunday," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

She left soon afterwards, ahead of schedule. He smiled to himself as he went into his bathroom to take a shower. Thus far, she was easy to control. He would keep his distance until she came to him. When she did, she would be eager to be with him. Then, she would learn to want the same things he did, and in fifteen years, she would be the perfect prime minister candidate, happy to impose all the changes that he wanted to create.

Now he just had to arrange for Bella's payment and get the photos of Potter. Then, if worst came to worst, he would keep Hermione silent by threatening to expose whatever Bella had been able to dig up about Potter. Because Hermione was not the kind of girl who liked to put other's welfare in front of her own. Even when he would manage to get proof of her involvement in what happened to Umbridge, Tom wasn't sure that would be enough to keep her silent. Threatening Potter no doubt would.

Though, Tom very much doubted it would come to that. All she needed was a little time to realise that he was absolutely perfect for her.

Hermione didn't really know what to think when she left Tom. Thus, she decided to just do what her body wanted, which was to sleep some more. She didn't meet anyone on her way back to her room, which she was happy for. When she saw herself in the mirror on her room, it was quite clear that she'd just had sex.

Normally, it would probably be hard for her to sleep with so many thoughts running through her head. But her body was aching so deliciously, and she was so tired, that she had no problem to fall asleep.

Next time she woke up, it was almost noon, and her belly was growling in hunger.

She took a quick shower and headed down to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Morning, Hermione!" Angelina greeted her, waving her over. "I take it you slept in, too?"

"Yeah," Hermione just said, loading her plate with mashed potatoes and bacon. "So much for getting an early start with my studies."

"It was a shame that you left so early," the girl next to Angelina said. Hermione had met her last night, her named was Katie Bell, and she was in the same course as Angelina.

"I was tired," Hermione said, not meeting their eyes. "Long night."

Angelina snickered. "Are you sure? Because you look as if you had a very, very nice night."

Hermione looked up in alarm. "What?"

Angelina and Katie giggled. "Relax, you are not the only one who has sneaked out to meet a lover. Who is he? Or is it a she?"

Hermione blushed furiously. "He is no one. Just a ... we just had sex."

"Right. Well, if I hadn't seen your friend Harry disappear with Bella, I'd think it was him," Katie stated. "He seemed quite smitten by you before Bella showed up."

Hermione eyes widened in surprise, thankful that there was an opening for a change of topic. "Harry left with Bella?"

"Yes, they practically started right there on the table. I think I saw her massaging his cock under the table," Katie stated. "Quite the shameless lady, that Bella."

"Oh, well, that's nice for him," Hermione said, unsure how to feel about that. Of course it was good if Harry found someone else, but to just hook up with someone you met at a bar like that? What if he got his feeling hurt?

Right... she was such a hypocrite. She just wanted her friend to be safe and happy.

"A shame, though," Katie continued thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have minded a tumble in bed with him. He was handsome. How do you know him?"

"We have been friends since first grade," Hermione said, trying to focus on the conversation and not the conflicted thoughts in her head. "And we stayed friends even after we went our different ways after high school."

You tended to stay friends after having partaken in a scheme to take down evil professors in questionable ways.

That reminded her that she had promised to call Harry. Thus, she quickly finished eating, and went back up to her room.

Harry answered after just a couple of signals.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, and she could hear him yawn.

"Hi, late night?" she asked teasingly.

"Sorry, yeah. I just came back home. Took me a while to find a cab."

"Yeah, Katie said you had left with Bella?"

Harry was silent for few seconds. "Yeah. After you left, I planned to leave, too, but then Bella started asking me all these questions and kept buying us all more to drink and before I knew it ... but there is nothing going on. I was just really drunk."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Harry," Hermione said softly. "I just hope you had a good time."

Harry was silent a few more seconds, then he sighed. "Yeah. But ... hey, can't we have lunch next weekend? Just the two of us? I can come down to Hogsmeade again."

Hermione frowned, getting a bit worried as to why Harry wanted to have lunch with her. Hopefully it was just as friends.

"Okay," she finally said.

"I saw this nice tea shop when I left this morning, Madam Puddifoot's, maybe we can meet there around noon?" Harry asked, sounding hopeful.

"Sure," Hermione said, not having heard about it, but sure she could ask Angelina or someone for directions. "I'll see you next Saturday then, I guess?"

"Yeah. See you then," Harry agreed.

Hermione rang off, staring at the phone in her hand. Surely Harry couldn't still be interested in her after having spent the night with some other woman?

Deciding that she shouldn't worry about it, she put the phone on her night stand and sat down at her desk. She had to prepare for her lessons the next day.

Lessons with Tom. Professor Riddle. Who had fucked her so hard she had passed out.

Letting out a sigh, she pushed those thoughts from her head as well. School had always been her first priority, and so it would remain. Once she were finished with her school work, she could consider this Tom situation.

Possible secret boyfriend, Tom.

"Get a grip," she growled to herself and opened the book on top of the pile.

Study, yes. Books good, men bad. That would be her motto until she was finished with her preparations and homework.

The second week at Hogwarts went by as fast as the first one had. However, Hermione hardly remembered anything of it. She went to her lectures, did her assignments, and spent time with her new friends. But all the time, her thoughts would wander to Tom.

It didn't help that she had classes with him every day, and thus, had to see him and be reminded of how hot he was. Hermione couldn't help but to think back to the weekend. How she had woken up with his head between her legs, smirking in mischief at her.

Thankfully, he didn't treat her any differently from her other classmates. He nodded politely at her if she raised her arm and looked at her with the same interest as he did with all his students. There was nothing at all in his behaviour that would make anyone think he had asked her to be his girlfriend, for lack of a better term.

Perhaps it was his way of showing that there really would be no ill feelings if she didn't want to become his girlfriend. It did ease some of her worry. She would have hated to have her experience at Hogwarts ruined just because a teacher was mad at her for not sleeping with him.

Sure, she could report him, but it just didn't feel right. She had been as much at fault as he was. There was a reason why it was forbidden for students and teachers to date.

At the same time, she felt a pang of sadness in her chest every time she thought about never seeing him intimately again. They didn't know each other that well yet, but what she had seen thus far made him ten times more interesting as anyone else she had ever met.

Then again, this was hardly the time for her to start a relationship – any relationship. She wanted to complete her studies. And shouldn't she be worried that he wanted to have a secret relationship with her to begin with?

Hermione wasn't that naive; she knew there were men who had multiple partners and made sure none of them knew of each other. Hermione didn't want to be taken advantage of like that.

No, she simply couldn't make up her mind.

By the time the weekend came, she decided to forgo any studying for a whole day. She would go and meet Harry, and then, she would sit down and consider every aspect of a relationship with Tom.

She went to Hogsmeade a quarter to noon. It was a windy, but sunny day. You could tell that autumn was coming, and yet, it was warm enough to just wear a light jacket.

Angelina had told her where Madam Puddifoot's was and Hermione found her way there without problem. She was a bit worried about the location, though. Angelina had snickered when Hermione asked her about it, letting Hermione know that it was considered a spot for dates.

What exactly was Harry planning on telling her?

Harry was already waiting outside, even though she was early. That in itself was a bit strange. Harry wasn't one to be late, but he was rarely too early either. He arrived on the spot, or a couple of minutes afterwards.

He smiled and waved as he saw her. She noticed that he was wearing one of his fancier shirts – a green one, which brought out his eyes. He seemed to even have attempted to tame his dark hair with some gel, but the wind had already undone the work.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, hugging her when she reached him.

"Hi," Hermione replied a bit stiffly.

Harry was acting a bit nervous. He was constantly pushing up his glasses and smiling a bit too big.

They went inside, and Hermione understood what Angelina had meant when she had said that this was a place for couples on dates.

All the tables were just big enough for two people, and only had two chairs – for couples. It was decorated in a way that she could only describe as fluffy. Pink, frilly cushions on the chairs, roses on the tables, and tea candles floating in water-filled, heart-shaped bowls placed all over the counter.

She restrained herself from wrinkling her nose and glanced at Harry.

Perhaps the décor had surprised him, too, because he looking around in disbelief. When he saw her looking, he smiled sheepishly.

"It looked cute from the outside," he said with a shrug.

Hermione snorted. "At least they seem to have food. I'm starving."

Ordering a sandwich and a cup of tea each, they went to sit down at a table in the back. There were already a lot of other couples there, holding hands and even kissing over the tables.

Hermione did her best to ignore them all.

"So," she said, sitting down. "You sounded as if you had something special to talk about?"

"Er... right," Harry said, fingering his teacup. "Well, I guess you want to know what happened with Bella?"

Hermione shrugged. "Katie said that you two left together. I think I can figure out what happened."

"Right. Well, it was just a one night thing. She was really ... persuasive. I don't know why I agreed to even sleep with her in the first place. I felt really stupid the next day and regretted it. But she seemed to only have wanted a one-time thing, too, because she was gone by the time I woke up."

"Huh," Hermione said, starting to really dread why Harry was telling her this.

"I just don't want you to think ... I mean, you left, but I felt like I should have come with you. Said goodbye. The only reason I was even there was to see you," he mumbled, staring down at his teacup.

Hermione was suddenly struck by how different Harry was from Tom. Harry was cute, but like a little puppy. Uncertain about his place in the world, clueless in some areas and yet adorable. Tom was certain about himself and his place in the world. Confident. Sexy.

"We did spend some time together, though," Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful and careless. "If you ended up having sex, then that's just good for you!"

"Yeah, but that's just it. I didn't want to have sex that night. Or, I mean ... I didn't want to have sex with her." Harry glanced up, looking at her with those pleading, green eyes.

Hermione sighed, suddenly annoyed. She knew what Harry was getting at. She always knew what he was getting at. He had always relied on her being able to figure things out before he did and say things for him. In this case, she had played clueless because she simply didn't feel the same way and had hoped that it would pass.

But if Harry were going to come here, trying to woo her or something, then the least he could do was actually come out and say it. She shouldn't have to say that for him as well.

To his credit, Harry seemed to sense her mood shift. "I had hoped that maybe there could be something between us. Something more than friends."

There it was. The thing she had dreaded.

She had never been able to see herself with Harry in that way. He was like her brother. She coddled him, scolded at him, and loved him. And really, when she thought about it, he would make a great boyfriend. He was attentive, even if his mind sometimes worked slower than she'd like. He cared and fought for the things he believed in. It was really brave of him to actually say it to her, even though he must have sensed that she didn't feel the same way. He was clueless, but not that clueless. No, he was just someone that had to find out for sure. He didn't chicken out.

However, he lacked something to do it for her. He wasn't ...

Tom.

At once it was so perfectly clear for her, and she didn't know why it had taken her a week to go back and forth. So what if she didn't know everything about Tom. She would just have to find out. She would kick herself forever if she didn't at least try.

If he turned out to be some sort of cheater ... Well, she had punished teachers before, she could do it again.

"Hermione?" Harry said tentatively, breaking her line of thoughts.

She sighed. "Oh Harry. I'm so sorry, but I just don't feel the same way. I love you as a friend and I always have."

She winced as she saw Harry look down, heartbroken. She hated doing this to him.

"Yeah. I think I already knew that," Harry said softly. "I just had to find out."

"Of course. I'm flattered that you think of me that way," Hermione said, trying to cheer him up. "And I know that you'll make some girl very lucky one day. But it's not me."

Harry gave her a forced smile. "Yeah. I hope so."

Hermione took his hand that was lying on the table and squeezed it. "I know you will. And we'll always be friends."

He nodded and looked down at his untouched sandwich. "Yeah. I'm lucky to have you as a friend, but I think I have to go now."

She wanted to want to stop him, but in reality, she was relieved. "I understand. Is it okay if I text you tomorrow or something?"

"Sure," he said, picking up his sandwich. "Talk then."

He left without looking at her again.

Hermione sank back against the chair, sighing. This was for the best. Now Harry knew and she knew what she wanted to do. She had to talk to Tom.

Resolve filling her, she left her uneaten sandwich (not being hungry anymore) and went outside again.

How should she tell him about her decision? It was probably not so good to just accept him straight off. They had to come up with some sort of ground rules. What to do with classes so they wouldn't compromise her learning. What to do in case they did get caught. Where to meet and when.

They also had to get to know each other better. She had several questions she wanted to ask him. Like, why he wanted to get into a relationship with a younger woman in the first place. Why was she worth the risk? She needed to make sure he wasn't just using her in some way.

She was so deep in thoughts that she first didn't realise where she was going. When she finally looked up, she didn't recognise her surroundings.

Hogsmeade wasn't so big, though. She had the feeling that Hogwarts was in the same direction as she was going in. If she kept going, she would either get back onto the main road, or to the forest. If that happened, she would just follow the edge of the forest until all the houses were gone. Then she should be able to see Hogwarts. It was big, after all.

After just ten minutes walking, she did get to the forest. Following her plan, she began walking uphill. Hogwarts was lying uphill, so it made sense.

Since she didn't want to step onto someone's yard, she sometimes went a bit further into the forest. Yet, she always kept an eye on the houses.

Just as she passed the last house, she did indeed see Hogwarts. It was in the direction she had been travelling.

The only problem was that she had reached a cliff. There was a path crossing beneath her, and if she followed it to her left, it went up towards Hogwarts. But to reach the path, she either had to climb down a few yards, or try to get down some other way.

She decided that the safest way was to follow the cliff parallel to the path. It did go downhill, and then, she just had to double back on the path.

The trees were growing thickly, and she had to struggle to get through them. But after just a couple of minutes, she heard something that made her pause.

There were upset voices coming from down on the path. And one of them sounded really familiar.

Getting down on her knees, she crawled towards the edge of the cliff again and peered over.

There, in a clearing of trees, right below her, she saw Tom. His company surprised her.

It was Bella.

"It's the same delivery man who has always provided you, Bella," Tom said, sounding annoyed.

"But it's not the same!" Bella growled, holding up a plastic bag with some white stuff inside it. "I refuse to accept this shit. Give me the real thing, or you won't get the photos."

Tom sighed and accepted the bag. He opened it, and stuck a finger into it. When he withdrew it, his fingertip was covered with white powder.

To Hermione's astonishment, he licked his finger and then he spat it out again. What on earth was he doing?

"I see what you mean," Tom said, sounding angry. "It seems you can't trust anyone to do their work. Well, he will regret this."

Bella was all of a sudden looking very happy. "Oh, can I watch?"

Tom snorted. "I don't have time to deal with it during the school term, Bella, you know that. But I will send someone over. In the meantime, what can I offer you for the photos?"

Bella smiled and put her hand on his arm. "I think I could be persuaded to accept another kind of payment."

Hermione had to force back a gasp. Not only was Tom dealing with some sort of white powder that she could only think were drugs, but he was going to cheat on her.

Sure, they weren't actually a couple yet, but—

"I'm afraid I can no longer do that, Bella. I'm off the market," Tom said calmly, brushing her hand away.

Bella laughed. "Off the market? What kind of game is this, Riddle?"

Tom merely smiled. "I plan to go into a long-term relationship. That may not mean much to you—"

"Who is she?" Bella shrieked angrily.

"You forget yourself, Bella," Tom said, suddenly sounding a lot colder.

To Hermione's complete astonishment, Bella actually shrugged away, looking as if she thought Tom would hit her.

"Forgive me," she whispered in such a low voice that Hermione had to strain her ears to hear.

Hermione couldn't really see Tom's expression, but she got the feeling from the way Bella was squirming that he was giving her a hard look.

"Very well. But do keep in mind that if anything were to happen to her, the only reason I would come running to you is to kill you."

The hair at the back of Hermione's neck rose, and chill spread down her body. Tom, the same man who had made her feel all sorts of pleasure and happiness, seemed to have been exchanged for someone else. This man was cold, ruthless, and absolutely serious in his threat of killing another person. Hermione would have liked to think that he was only exaggerating, but his tone was dangerously certain.

Bella seemed to take the threat seriously as well, because she winced. "Fine. I'll wait. I doubt anyone could hold your interest for long anyway."

Tom sighed. "If that's what you need to believe."

Bella seemed hurt but didn't say anything else.

"If you want a new high quality batch, I'll send it to you. Hopefully I'll find a new provider next week," Tom said, his tone hinting that they were ending this conversation.

Bella licked her lips, and another type of longing flashed through her eyes. "Yes. Thanks."

Tom gave her back the bag of what must be the low quality "batch". "Do whatever you want with this in the meantime, but I will need the photographs."

Bella sighed and handed him a brown envelope. Tom accepted it and put them inside a black briefcase. "I'll be in touch."

Then it happened. When he turned around to leave, he glanced upwards and their eyes met. She could see his eyes widen in shock. But they soon narrowed again, and he looked back at Bella.

Hermione felt like a deer caught in the highlights of a car. She couldn't move. What would he do to her? It was clear she had completely misjudged him. He was not a good person at all. In fact, he seemed to be some sort of murdering drug dealer!

"Bye, Bella," Tom said, sounding even stricter than he had before.

Bella frowned, clearly not understanding why he wasn't moving, but it was apparent that she wasn't brave enough to question him. Instead, she just nodded and turned around, taking the path down right, away from Hogwarts.

When she was out of sight and earshot, Tom spun around, looking at Hermione again.

As if she had got a shot of adrenaline, Hermione sprung up and started running back the same way she had come, back towards Hogsmeade. She didn't care if she got lost, she just knew she couldn't stick around with Tom. She had to think, first.

Alas, luck wasn't with her. When she heard someone come running behind her, she tried to run even faster. After just a few steps, her foot got caught on a root, and she fell.

The air was knocked from her lungs, and she felt a sharp pain in her left wrist as she landed on it. She tried to regain her breath, but at the same time, she wanted to cry in pain.

Tom reached her with ease and stopped next to her, sighing.

"Now look what you have done," he said, scowling. "Why did you have to run like that?"

"Stay away from me," she wheezed, managing to sit up, holding her injured wrist against her chest.

"I will do nothing of the sort," Tom said, shaking his head. "You are hurt. I'll help you back to the school so you can see the nurse. Then we are going to talk."

Hermione shook her head. "No! I heard you! You were talking about taking care of someone, and you threatened to kill Bella like it was nothing. And I'm pretty sure those things were drugs."

Tom rolled his eyes. "These are all things we can talk about after you have seen the nurse. Now come, I'll help you up."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. He wasn't trying to explain himself or anything. He didn't even look guilty or upset of being found out.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He sighed. "I already told you. We can talk about this after you have seen the nurse."

Hermione didn't know what to think. He was behaving just as friendly as he always had. But it didn't make any sense.

However, getting back to the castle where there were other people sounded pretty smart. Staying alone in the forest with him, who could possibly be a murderer, didn't seem as smart. Yes, she'd pretend to play along. Hopefully he wasn't going to lead her to her death.

"Okay. Okay," she said, trying to steady her breathing. Her wrist was throbbing in pain.

He helped her stand up, and that's when she noticed that her ankle was throbbing, too.

"It seems like you took quite the fall," Tom noted and laid his arm around her. "I'll call someone to drive us up to school from the village."

Hermione didn't know what to say, and thus, she said nothing at all as they made their way through the forest, back into the village. However, her brain was working hard.

Even if Tom was just half as bad as she now expected, she knew she no longer had the privilege to just walk away. How could a teacher be a drug dealer? And what sort of photos were worth drugs? It smelled like blackmail, and from someone who was involved with politics, that was bad. Really bad. Hermione hated corrupt politicians.

When she had realised just how rotten Umbridge had been, Hermione had decided to do something. Punish her. However, she got the feeling that it would be a lot harder to expose Tom. He seemed to be better at covering his track. Umbridge had been so obvious in her will to torment students that catching her in the act had been easy enough.

However, there were other things that differed between Umbridge and Tom. Hermione had hated Umbridge, and she certainly had never slept with her! This wasn't just about taking down some bad teacher. This was personal.

She recalled what he had said, that he planned to go into a long term relationship and thus didn't want to sleep with Bella. He must have meant with her. But why? What could he possibly want with her? She was not a criminal. She had never—

She gasped. He had asked her about Umbridge. About whether or not Hermione would have liked to take revenge. What had she answered? She thought she had agreed. Perhaps even told him that she had done something more than just exposing her. She had been too focused on having sex with him at the time. But now she got the feeling that he had wanted information as well.

He had probably planned the whole thing. Perhaps even sent in Bella to distract Harry so Hermione would feel— What? Left out? Either way, it couldn't have been a coincidence that Bella had joined them that night.

He must want something. Perhaps he thought she would help him with some criminal scheme, just because of what she had done to Umbridge?

Well, two could play that game.

When they reached the village, Tom picked up his mobile and called for help. She took the opportunity to study him.

He still looked the same as he had before: charming, confident, and attractive. However, she realised now that she had never thought him nice. Friendly and pleasant, maybe, but hardly nice. He didn't need to be nice, he had the air of a person who expected people to do what he wanted. Even in the classroom, he expected obedience.

The call ended, and Tom turned his attention to her again, making her look away.

"The car will be at the village square in ten minutes. It's not far," he said, putting an arm around her again.

"You seem awfully confident that I won't just tell everyone who you are," Hermione muttered, hopping along, hating that she had to lean on him.

Tom chuckled. "You don't know who I am, yet. You said so yourself. That's how I know you won't tell anyone anything. You are the kind of person who wants the whole picture."

"I know you deal with drugs," she hissed. "That would be enough to throw you in prison."

He snorted. "With just your word of me handling a bag with a white content? Hardly."

She hated that he was right. She would need proof and she would not want to tell anyone anything until she had it. Otherwise, it would all backfire on her, and she would be the one who was prosecuted with slander.

They found a bench near the fountain, and she was relieved to finally let go of him and be able to sit down.

It was an uncomfortable silence between them – at least from Hermione's side. She didn't have the energy to pretend to talk normal to him, so she'd rather not even try. There were too many people around for her to say what she actually wanted. Other students walked by, some ignoring them, some peering curiously at them. A few even nodded in their direction.

"Oi, Hermione!" It was Katie.

She broke free from the gang of friends she had been walking with and came over, looking worried.

"What happened?" she asked.

Hermione grimaced. "I had a bad fall. Professor Riddle is helping me back to the school to see the nurse."

Katie winced in sympathy. "That's too bad. Can I help you in any way?"

Hermione was tempted to ask Katie to join her back up to the school, but decided against it. She needed answers from Tom.

"Thank you, no, that's okay," she just said. "I just need the nurse to look me; then I'll probably rest."

"Okay," Katie said, still looking worried. "I'll come by later tonight and see how you are doing, okay?"

"Thanks," Hermione said, relieved. At least there was someone who would be worried if she wasn't in her room tonight. That meant Tom wouldn't be able to ...

She paused. What exactly was she afraid Tom would do to her? Killing her would be a bit extreme. It was like he said, she didn't have any evidence of him doing anything wrong. If she disappeared, that would arouse suspicions.

That thought made her feel safe enough to actually get into the car when it arrived and let Tom help her up to the nurse. It was a good thing she had him to lean on, otherwise she wasn't sure she would make it up the stairs.

Stupid centuries old castles without a lift.

The nurse, Madam Pomfrey, fretted over her as she checked her leg and arm. Hermione tried to lay as still as possible on the hospital bed, but it was hard when every movement made her limbs hurt more.

"Nothing seems to be broken," Pomfrey finally said. "Your wrist will take longer to heal than your ankle, though. Your ankle is just twisted and should be better within a few days if you stay off your feet. Your wrist is sprained, that will take longer."

She then glanced up at Tom who was still standing next to Hermione.

"Was there anything else, Professor?" she asked, clearly not understanding why Tom would stay so long.

Tom looked a bit embarrassed. "I wanted to help. It's sort of my fault she fell in the first place. I believe I startled her. I just want to make sure she gets to her bed alright."

Hermione did her best not to stare at him in disbelief. Startle her? That was an understatement.

Pomfrey looked back to Hermione. "Well, then, if Miss Granger doesn't mind the help, you can wait outside as I patch her up."

Hermione shook her head, succumbing to her fate. She did need to talk to Tom, and it was probably best sooner rather than later. She needed to find out who he was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tom was not happy by a long shot. He glared at the double doors leading into the hospital wing, as if they personally had offended him.

This should not have happened. Hermione should not have overheard that conversation. Stupid Bella to insist on meeting him on a weekend, while the entire school was out and about.

Or rather, stupid Avery to provide bad drugs. Oh, Tom would make sure he paid dearly. Avery had made too many mistakes lately. Tom had no use of people who made mistakes. No, he would arrange a new vacation for Avery – right next to a lot of fishes.

First, he needed to fix things with Hermione. He would not let her slip between his fingers. Not when the foundation was so perfect. She fitted so nicely into his plans – if only she would agree to stay with him.

He rose from the bench when she came through the doors, limping. Without a word, he took a steady grip around her waist and helped her move forward.

However, he didn't lead her back up towards her room, but to his office.

They saw several people on their way there, but no one did more than offer a polite "hello". He didn't care. Hermione would no doubt feel safe that there were witnesses that had seen her with him, but to him, it didn't matter. He didn't plan to harm her. He just wanted to talk where they wouldn't be easily overheard.

Unlocking the door, he led her inside and made her sit down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. He then took his place in the black leather chair behind his desk. Some distance was good, for now. Reminding her of his authority.

They stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other.

She didn't look as scared anymore. Not as she had done in the forest when he had caught her overhearing his conversation with Bella. No, now she seemed more resentful and confused.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, her tone hard.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands coming up in front of him, clasping them on his stomach. "I'm Tom Riddle."

"Don't," she growled. "I know what I heard. I may not be able to prove anything, but don't act like nothing happened."

He shrugged. "What do you want me to say? That my teacher salary is so small, and my mother is dying, so I need to make money on the side by dealing in drugs?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "If you won't tell me the truth, then I'll just leave."

She made an attempt to get up, but he sighed loudly, making a gesture for her to sit back down.

She did. "Well?"

"Politics are messy, Hermione," he said calmly. "I'm someone who cleans up the messes before the public eye sees them."

"By dealing drugs?" she asked, looking cautious.

"By any means necessary," he replied. "Bella is an asset who likes to be paid a certain way. I provide it."

"And what had Bella done that you had to pay for?" she asked.

"She provided me with some information I needed about a possible opponent."

"Possible?"

He chuckled. "The best way to prevent a mess is to make sure nothing is spilled to begin with."

She still appeared resentful, but there was a thoughtful expression on her face now, as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. "You worked for Thicknesse's campaign. Is it his messes you clean up, or do you just work for the highest bidder?"

He was a bit surprised by the question, but pleased. She asked the right things; that was always good.

"What do you think?"

There was a flash of realisation in her eyes, and he knew she understood. He would never be bought or work for someone else – he did what suited him. If you were in the business of cleaning up messes, then the first thing you needed to make sure was that no one found your own.

"So you have your own plan to want – rule the country?" she asked.

He snorted. "Hardly. Too much public appearances, shaking hands, and other useless things that have to be done."

"Why do it then?"

"If you haven't noticed, Hermione, there are a lot of things that needs fixing in society. I grew up in an orphanage, I should know."

As he had expected, he saw sympathy flash through her eyes. Now she was interested.

"The problem is that bureaucracy and procedures get in the way of actually doing something good with the power," he continued. "To be efficient, you either have to overthrow the system completely, or find ways to ... speed things up. I choose to speed things up – even if a lot of that is illegal."

She seemed troubled by that. Well, no matter, he would make her see his way soon enough. He just needed her to ask one more question.

Alas, she wasn't asking that one yet. "What sort of illegal things?"

"Everyone has secrets," he said in a low voice. "I happen to be an expert in finding them. Once I do, it's easy to expose those who are in my way and make sure someone more suitable fills the position."

At the word "expose" he could see realisation hitting her again.

"Is that what you want me to do? To help you expose someone? Because of what I did with Umbridge?"

She sounded worried. Well, he could see why.

"No, dear, although, that's why I chose you. You didn't just expose her, did you?"

He could see her eyes widen in fear. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not the only one who pays criminals to do things, so I won't have to sully my own hands," he said softly, leaning forward over the desk.

"I – I don't know—"

He rose fast, interrupting her. "Don't lie, Hermione, not now when we are being honest with each other."

Her face was turning red, and she was looking down at her knees.

He came around the desk, stopping right in front of her, sitting down on the edge of his desk.

"Exposing is just part of if, you know that. Some people need to be punished as well, and the justice system doesn't work. Especially not on the rich, or the ones with rich friends."

She glared up at him, but he could see that she agreed.

He brought his hand up to her face, stroking her cheek. "You don't need to feel embarrassed with me, dear. I knew Umbridge; she deserved it."

"I know that," she spat. "But I also know that others won't see it that way. Do you plan to blackmail me into helping you now? With the things you don't want to sully your own hands with?"

"Oh, love, no, you misunderstand. I do want to work with you, but I don't need help with punishing corrupt politicians. I need a better prime minister."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion for a second. "A better prime minister? You mean me?"

"Of course. You are brilliant, clever, compassionate, and still understand that you need to get your hands dirty to get somewhere. It will take a few years to lay the foundation of your ideology, but I'm confident I can do that."

She was still staring at him in bafflement. "So you have just taken an interest in me because you think I can be your pet prime minister?"

He silently sighed. No, of course it would not have been that simple to sway her.

"No, I took an interest in you because I wanted to fuck you," he answered truthfully. "I never thought I'd see you again. However, when I did, I began digging into your past and realised just how perfect you are. I would be a fool not to try."

She looked away, clearly thinking hard, trying to make sense of all of it.

"But Bella was at our table last week, before I went home with you. Did you send her?"

She really was clever. Right now, it was annoying.

"I may have asked her to see what she could find out about you from another perspective. But she got a bit sidetracked by your friend."

"You threatened to kill her," Hermione said slowly and finally looked back up at her. "Have you ever had someone murdered?"

Countless. "Yes. Just like you had Umbridge beaten in prison."

Her eyes darkened. "That's not the same."

"Oh really?"

"There is a difference between murdering someone and beating someone up," she spat. "I believe it's the difference between ten years in prison and a lifetime sentence."

"Good thing neither of us will get caught then," Tom remarked casually. "But you can't tell me you haven't thought about murdering someone."

He could see her tense up, and her eyes were screaming of guilt. He smiled.

"So what? Everyone has. There is a difference between doing and fantasising."

"Yes, I believe the difference is whether you have the competence to get away with it or not. Most people don't. That's why they only fantasise about it." He leaned back again, studying her. "Nevertheless, I don't expect you to ever have to murder someone. I just hope you'll make a good prime minister and steer this country right."

She started to laugh. "And the fact that we live in a democracy doesn't trouble you at all?"

He snorted. "Don't make me laugh, you are not that naive. Especially not at this level in your education."

She made a grimace. "You know what I mean."

"No, you know what _I _mean," he pressed, gripping her chin again. "Bad people are taking advantage of all the flaws in the system. We need to make the best of the situation."

"So why don't you do it yourself?" she bit back, trying to pull back, but he wouldn't let her.

"Because as you may have noticed, I have some interesting friends. If I become a public figure, they'll try to manipulate me into doing what they want, and I'll spend more time pushing them back than actually fixing things. No, I need to stay in the shadow, and you need to be the one with the actual power."

She was still looking doubtful, but he could see in her eyes that she was swaying. There was a longing there. She wanted power, too, but something was holding her back. Probably her upbringing. She had spent a lot of time with Dumbledore, and his fake idealism of how you always had to do the right thing must have rubbed off.

"If this is true," she finally said in a low voice. "Why didn't you tell me this from the start? Why pretend that you want to be my boyfriend?"

Oh, so that was where she was stuck now. Typical.

He sighed and stroked her cheek again, finally letting go. "Can't I want both? You are perfect in many ways, Hermione."

"But how do you plan for your scheme to work if we break up?" she said.

Apparently his tender words hadn't stopped her from thinking critically. Well, like he said, she was perfect.

"In my scheme, we don't break up," he said with a smile.

"Even if I stop ... liking you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you stop liking me, then my scheme will be for naught either way. However, I don't think that will happen. I know I would be good boyfriend to you, just as I know you have already fantasised of being prime minister."

She flushed again. "Of course, I'm sure everyone in your course has had some time considered it."

"I would imagine so, yes. Doesn't it tell you something that you are the only one I've offered this to, then?"

"If you are telling the truth."

He sighed and rose again, walking up to the window, looking out.

"Yes. That is what this comes down to. For any of this to come true, you'll have to trust me."

Behind his back, he could hear the chair scraping against the floor as she rose as well.

"You have to understand that this is overwhelming."

He slowly turned around and saw that she was standing with her arms crossed, favouring her uninjured foot.

"Yes. This is why I would rather have waited to tell you about my ... leisure pursuits."

"I have to think this over," she warned.

"Naturally."

She glanced towards the door. "I can go, then?"

"You may go, yes, but you'll have to be the judge of whether or not you can," he said, looking down at her foot. "Otherwise, I'll help you to your room. It is, after all, my fault that you are injured."

She took a few steps towards the door. Her face tightened in pain with every step. When she finally reached the door, she let out a sigh.

"Alright, help me get to my room. But then, I want to be left alone to think."

He smirked. Oh, she would think, but he could already see that he had won.

It took a week before her ankle felt completely fine again, and another week until she could remove the bandage on her wrist.

By that time, she had been back and forth more times than she could count on what to do with Tom.

She was still attracted to him, and it was true that she did want to become prime minister so she could make the country better.

But could she really get the help of someone she knew was a criminal and a murderer? He had as good as said that he had made murders happen.

If there were something she had always held for true, it was that murder was wrong. However, as she had grown up, that had come into perspective. Clearly, the government didn't think all murder was wrong, otherwise they wouldn't send soldiers out in war.

She had even met a few people she wouldn't mind to see dying. There had been a boy in school who had bullied her, and she had fantasised about his death many times. She had even given him quite a beating one day when he had finally pushed her over the edge. That had felt good.

She had even arranged for Umbridge to get the beating she deserved once she was in prison. She had used the contacts she got while working with Kingsley, and she had thought she hid her tracks. No one she knew had ever suspected her of it. Umbridge was a very unpleasant person, so it was not like anyone was surprised when it happened.

Somehow, though, Tom had found out. And he had understood. He actually thought she had done something reasonable.

That felt good. Few she knew would understand her reasoning behind it.

But murder?

She just couldn't make up her mind.

She wished there was someone she could talk to about it. Alas, no one could know about the two of them. Tom had made her promise not to tell, and she didn't want to go back on her promise.

A fortnight after their discussion, Hermione was suddenly given an opportunity.

It was just after supper, and she was finishing an essay for class, when her mobile rang.

It was Ginny.

"Hi!" Hermione answered, happy to finally hear from her friend. They hadn't really had a chance to talk since she had come to Hogwarts. Both had busy schedules, and every time one had been free, the other had had to run away.

Now, however, she had nowhere else to be for the night.

"Hermione," Ginny greeted her. "Please tell me you don't have to go to some extra study session in five minutes."

"Nope," Hermione answered happily. "I'm free all night,"

"Great! I've been dying to talk to you."

"I've missed talking to you, too," Hermione said, touched that Ginny sounded so eager.

"Yes, but not only that," Ginny said fast. "Why didn't you tell me the one-night stand turned out to be your teacher?!"

Hermione almost dropped her phone in shock. Her knees grew weak, and she sat down on her bed.

"Wh- how do you know?" she asked weakly.

"Harry was here last weekend. He told us he had gone to see you, and that Hogwarts was really great. Since Ron hadn't seen the web page yet, he showed us, and there, on the front page, was an article about how a certain Professor Riddle had just come back to teach."

"Oh," Hermione said, dread filling her. "Please tell me you didn't say anything to Harry and Ron."

Ginny snorted. "What do you think I am, stupid? Of course not. But why didn't you call me?"

Hermione swallowed. "Tom and I agreed not to tell anyone about it. Student-teacher relationships are strictly forbidden. We didn't want to get in trouble."

"Oh, _Tom_ is it?" Ginny giggled. "What else did you and _Tom_ talk about?"

Hermione was glad that Ginny wasn't in the room with her, because her blush would be very telling.

At first, she contemplated on not saying anything more. Just lie and tell Ginny that nothing had happened. However, she needed to talk to someone about him. She had promised not tell anyone, but Ginny already knew, so she wasn't going against her promise.

"Ah, we didn't mean to let anything else to happen. But then we were both in Hogsmeade on the same night, and happened to leave at the same time, so we started talking on the way back. He then asked me back to his room and one thing led to another..." she trailed off, knowing that Ginny would be able to fill in the blanks.

Indeed, Ginny squealed. "It's like a naughty romance book! What happened then?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to tell Ginny about Tom's criminal side. Ginny wouldn't understand the way Hermione could.

"He asked me if we could be together," she finally said softly. "In secret."

"Oh." At once, Ginny didn't sound so cheerful anymore. "And you don't know if you want to?"

Hermione sighed. "No. I mean, I do like him and think he is sexy—"

"Like anyone with eyes would," Ginny agreed.

"Right. But I hate to have to hide it from everyone. What if we get caught? Or what if he is just using me for sex or something?" That thought had still gnawed in the back of her mind. He wanted her to be prime minister, but what if, once she were, he would use her to push laws she didn't like? Or order her start a war against another country?

"Well, if you get caught, I think you'll be safe. He is the one who has power over you, and he is older and a man. People will assume he is using you, not the other way around. If you need a character witness or something, I know a lot of people who'd jump at the chance," Ginny answered, serious.

"Thanks," Hermione said, thankful to have a friend like Ginny.

"As to whether he uses you or not ..." Ginny trailed off, clearly thinking. "I'm afraid that's just a matter of trust. Do you trust him?"

Hermione thought about it. She did want everything he offered – if he were telling the truth. "I want to trust him."

"Right. Well, you haven't known each other for that long, so of course it would be hard to tell right now. So perhaps the only way you can know for sure is if you try?" Ginny suggested. "And if you are wrong ... well, I'll just have to come up there and kick his arse, won't I?"

Hermione laughed at the image. However, Ginny's words made her think. If Tom weren't honest with her, then it wouldn't be like she was powerless against him. She didn't have any real proof right now that he was dealing with illegal things, but she knew he was. Therefore, there had to be proof somewhere. If she spent more time with him, she would probably find something.

And then, if he were lying to her and just using her, she could expose him.

"I hope I don't have to do that, though," Ginny continued softly. "He does seem like a good guy for you. On the paper, I mean. It makes sense that you'd end up with a teacher. You are way too clever for boys your own age. No one but a teacher on a great school would be able to stimulate you, intellectually."

"Yes, it feels like that sometimes," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Has he talked anything about the future?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He said something about how we could become a couple officially once I'd left school."

"That's a good sign, I think," Ginny said encouragingly. "If he meant to just use you, he would probably have been pretty vague about the future. And, I mean, he is risking his career to be with you."

"Yes, I guess he is," Hermione said, frowning.

If she found out that he was just going to use her while she was still in school, she had the upper hand. Just like she had caught Umbridge on tape, assaulting a student, she could catch Tom on tape, if needed.

Like Ginny had said, there were a lot of people who would back her up. She would come off as a schoolgirl in love. He would come off as the predator. He must realise that, too.

"Try not to over-think it," Ginny advised her. "In the end, you'll have to go with your heart."

Hermione nodded, and her heart took an extra leap. She did want to trust Tom. She did want to be with him.

And it seemed not even the knowledge of him possibly murdering someone could stop those feelings. It might make her a bad person, but her heart didn't seem to care about that.

"You're right," Hermione said, smiling. "Anyway, what's new with you?"

Ginny continued speaking for another couple of hours, and by the time they hung up, it was too late to go and find Tom. She would just have to wait until the next evening.

As she went into her first class the next morning, Tom greeted the class in just a white button-down shirt. Why did he have to look so sexy all the time?

Though she did understand why he had forgone the jacket; the classroom was surprisingly hot for this late in September. The windows stood ajar, and the students who had worn jackets or cardigans quickly removed them. Hermione was glad that she had decided to wear a knee-length, cotton skirt today – pants looked way too hot.

"Good morning," Tom greeted them, taking a bunch of papers from his desk and walking up to the first row of seats. "I've gone over your assignment from last week, and I thought we would spend the first half of the morning discussing the topic."

The students in the front passed the papers backwards, so everyone got their copy. Hermione took hers and turned to the last page, expecting the highest grade, as always.

To her great surprise, there wasn't a big blue A waiting for her, but a B. Under it, Tom had written: "I know you can do better".

She stared at it, and then, flipped through the pages again. There were no other comments in the paper. Nothing about where she had gone wrong. What was he referring to? How was she supposed to get better if he didn't even tell her about where she was mistaken?

She hardly paid attention to the discussion starting over her head, she was too busy reading through her paper again, trying to figure out what he meant. Therefore, she was completely shocked when she heard him say her name.

"Miss Granger?"

She looked up. The whole class was staring at her. Tom was looking at her disapprovingly.

Thankfully, even though she hadn't paid attention, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had still heard what was going on around her. They had been talking about comparative politics in general, and now someone had brought it up as the method used in Kevin Triggot's latest paper. Who happened to be exactly the scientist she had used in the B-worthy assignment she had turned in.

"Er, Triggot applied comparative politics when he studied the changes in foreign policy of Japan," she said quickly. "But I think he mostly tried to write Aristotle on the nose for thinking democracy is more corrupt than monarchy."

"That's an interesting observation," Tom allowed her. "What made you reach that conclusion?"

Hermione blinked. That was exactly what she had written in her paper! Thus, she told him again what her line of thought had been.

When she was finished, he just nodded. "Yes, as Miss Granger points out, it's dangerous when a researcher ..."

Hermione couldn't help but to frown. It sounded like he agreed completely with her. Then what was wrong with her paper?

When the class was finished just before lunch, Hermione didn't feel like she could just let it go. She needed to know what his problem with her assignment had been.

Thus, she marched up to the front of the classroom.

"Miss Granger," Tom said as he gathered his belongings, "what can I help you with?"

"I have a question about my grade," Hermione answered seriously.

Tom glanced to the students who were making their way out of the classroom. Once the last one had left, he walked up to the door and closed it.

"Why did I get a B?" she asked once he had locked it.

Tom arched an eyebrow. "This is not high school, Miss Granger. I'm not here to lead you by the hand through every mistake. I'm sure you can figure it out, too, if you just think about it."

"I read through it again. I couldn't see anything," she said, frustrated.

Tom crossed his arms. "Yes, I saw. It's not considered good form to sit and read while your professor is holding a lecture."

At those words, Hermione felt herself blushing. She knew that. All of it. Why was she even so upset? She had got bad grades before (or well, less than perfect grades). Though, every other time, she had known she would get a bad grade, because something had got in her way of writing properly: the flu, some friend being in trouble, her teacher having it out for her.

She looked at him again, suspicious.

"So you didn't give me an unfair grade just so I'd talk to you in private?"

Tom's eyes narrowed in anger. "I don't appreciate you questioning my work ethics, Miss Granger."

She crossed her arms, her chin sticking out stubbornly. "Then why did I get a bad grade?"

"Because your text wasn't as good as it usually is. And it's not just this assignment. The past two weeks, you have been distracted in class—"

"You told me that you wanted to make me prime minister!" she interrupted, her voice rising.

"Not so loud," he growled. "We don't want the whole school to find out."

"Well, it's true," she said, her voice lower. "Perhaps I am a bit distracted, but that's your fault."

He studied her coldly. "Then maybe I've misjudged you. If you are this easily distracted—"

She flushed in anger. "You said yourself that you hadn't meant to spring all this on me so fast!"

"Yes, alas, in my role as a teacher, I can't take that into consideration when I grade you. It wouldn't be fair to the other students," he hissed. "It's unreasonable for you to think that."

"I didn't mean that!" she objected. "I honestly didn't understand what was bad with this text."

"Now you do." He paused, crossing his arms and looking down at her. "If you were any other student, I wouldn't have accepted this type of behaviour in my classroom."

"If you were any other teacher, I wouldn't have been distracted and none of this would have happened in the first place," Hermione growled back.

They glared at each other for another few seconds. Then Hermione finally looked down. This was stupid. He was right; she had been distracted. This wasn't like her at all.

It wasn't him that was unjust. The reason she hadn't been at her best was because she didn't know what to do with him. That was what had affected her assignment.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I was out of line. I just ... I haven't been sure what to do about you until now."

"Until now?" His tone changed completely. It was soft, careful and a little hopeful.

She looked up at him again. "I spoke to a friend yesterday, Ginny. You met her, the first night we ... you know. She had seen your picture on the school's website and realised who you were."

"Oh," he just said, looking a bit worried.

"I didn't tell her anything about the prime minister stuff," she quickly reassured him. "But I did tell her that we had slept together again and that I wasn't sure what to do. She made me realise that, well ... I feel like I have to try. Because I like you. Really much."

She slowly moved closer to him, taking his hand. He let their fingers intertwine.

"That makes me very happy," he said softly. "Because I like you, too."

She looked up at him again. "But if you are just doing this to use me, I will have to hurt you."

He chuckled. "Likewise."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "You think I'd use you?"

"I already said that I'd make you a prime minister. It's possible that you'll just use me for that, and then, throw me aside once you have the position," he stated casually. "However, that's the thing with a partnership, I believe. You have to trust each other, and that means you are doomed to show some weaknesses."

"Like having sex with a student?" she suggested.

He laughed. "Indeed. Even if this doesn't work out, I think it's safe to say that none of us will expose the other. We have too much to lose."

His hand was hot in hers, and she had the urge to place it on her body.

"I guess there is nothing to do then, but give this a chance," she mumbled.

"That's what I've thought from the start," he whispered back, leaning in closer to her.

Their lips met in a heated kiss. It felt wonderful to kiss him again. She never wanted to stop.

It seemed that neither did he; he pushed her back against the wall, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Their kiss grew more needing. His body was radiating heat and passion, just like hers was. She rubbed up against him, her arms tight around his neck.

"I've missed this," she whispered when his mouth travelled down her cheek and throat.

"So have I," he growled, his voice raw with passion. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just bend you over your desk and fuck you hard in front of the entire class."

Her sex throbbed almost painfully, and she buckled against him.

There were too many clothes between them. Thankfully, he was already hiking up her skirt.

"I've thought about—" she started, but was interrupted by a loud laugh from the other side of the wall.

She hadn't realised how close they were too the door. There were students passing in the corridor right behind her back. If one of them were to try the door ...

Had Tom locked it? She couldn't recall.

Her thoughts were forced back to him when his left hand sneaked in under her skirt, rubbing the fabric of her knickers against her cunt. It was sticky from her fluid.

She moaned in pleasure, moving his head so she could kiss him again. He tasted divine and hot. Just completely right.

She heard the sound of a zipper going down, and felt his hand move between them. A moment later, he moved the crotch of her knickers aside and rubbed the head of his penis up and down her cunt before thrusting it inside her.

Her gasp in pleasure was swallowed by his mouth as he pressed her even harder into the wall behind her.

"You have no idea how incredible you feel," Tom whispered, moving his mouth to her ear. "And you are all mine now."

"Yes," she moaned.

He moved fast inside her, finding every sweet spot there was. "We will make sure this country get the leadership it truly deserves. And that those who try to ruin it get punished."

That sounded reasonable enough. She moaned again, louder this time, but he quickly covered her mouth with his again, silencing her.

She was meeting his thrust to the best of her abilities. She had to admit to herself that there was more than just the sex that felt right. Someone else might have been frightened by his rhetoric, but she understood. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. That was true in politics as well.

With his help, she would be able to do the changes necessary and weed out people like Umbridge. She was sure he could help her make them disappear, no matter how rich or connected they were.

His left hand moved in between them again, his thumb pushing against her clitoris. It made her shake with pleasure and see white sparkles before her eyes.

It wasn't long until she came, shuddering and moaning.

"I trust we understand each other, then?" Tom whispered as he put her feet back on the ground.

"Oh yes," she whispered back, breathlessly.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tonight, then. We can _celebrate_ the beginning of our partnership more properly then."

She beamed up at him. Oh yes, she very much looked forward to that.

THE END


End file.
